


Dies Caniculares

by pengiesama



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Matchmaking, Bottom Sorey (Tales of Zestiria), Gods, Illustrated, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-06-16 09:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15434163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pengiesama/pseuds/pengiesama
Summary: Mikleo dreams of travelling the world, having exciting adventures like his uncle. Unfortunately, he lives a pretty boring life in the tiny mountain village of Camlann. If he's not working at his family's temple, he's having to deal with his mother's constant attempts to match-make him to every eligible girl in town.He also happens to be best friends with a god. That god happens to be a dog, who happens to be able to turn into a frustratingly handsome young man. Complications, as they do, inevitably crop up.





	1. Prologue - Canis Majoris

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slitheringme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slitheringme/gifts).



> This is a collaboration between me and slitheringme (ssm50639 on Twitter)! I'm honored to be allowed to write for their wonderful AU, and even more honored to have their lovely art illustrating it!

\--

 

Mikleo and his uncle stumbled through the trees and underbrush. The rain was coming down in sheets; they could barely see more than an arm’s length in front of them, and the mud beneath their feet seemed determined to suck their hiking boots right off of them. The village of Camlann was in a mountainous region, which made rainstorms like these all the more dangerous – if they didn’t find proper shelter soon, they would be one mudslide away from becoming part of the mountain permanently.

Mikleo stumbled, reached for a tree branch to steady himself, and very nearly wiped out when that same tree branch snapped under his grip. His uncle’s arm was there to steady him, tight and secure around his midsection.

“Keep going!” he heard his uncle’s voice shout over the roar of the storm around them. “The ruins are up ahead!”

Mikleo tried to calm his racing heart. His Uncle Michael was a seasoned adventurer. His Uncle Michael would get them both home safe.

The Mabinogio Ruins were an ancient, sprawling temple that sat just outside Camlann – Mikleo and Michael had set off hiking from the village that morning with the intention of camping at the temple for the evening, and examining the state of its frescos and stonework. They would take note of what needed to be tended to, manage said tending with the tools in their packs, and then head back to the village the next day. It was something they did every time Michael found himself wandering back to town in the midst of his travels, and was an activity Mikleo cherished.

When they left the village, there was no sign of a storm – it was sun and clear skies for miles. This torrential downpour came from nowhere, and caught them completely off-guard. Too far already from Camlann to try heading back, they would simply have to push toward the Mabinogio Ruins with all they had, then find a room that was in good enough shape to wait things out.

Finally, they caught sight of the ancient steps that led up to the temple entrance. Rainwater rushed down the steps like a tumbling waterfall – they would be quickly washed away if they tried to climb. And so, they continued to trudge through the underbrush, step by stumbling, soaking, mud-sucking step, until they reached the entrance. They collapsed to the (marginally) dry stone floor once inside, and paused a moment to catch their breath; watching the downpour outside in wonder. It was such a massive, raging storm – how did they not manage to see it coming on the horizon before they set out?

“…we’ll need to build a fire,” Michael finally said. “Go try and find some dry kindling. Don’t wander too far.”

Mikleo nodded absently. “Yeah...yeah.”

Mikleo knew these ruins like the back of his hand. Although he didn’t often get the chance to come out in person – being nine years old with an worrisome and overprotective mother limited one’s options when striking out on a journey to an ancient, decaying temple in the mountains – he poured over maps and books on the temple regularly, and found himself wandering its halls and rooms in his dreams. It held a special place in his heart as a place of adventure, a place that symbolized his dreams to get out of his tiny village and explore the world – just like Uncle Michael.

That being said, being able to navigate the ruins blindfolded didn’t necessarily give Mikleo a leg up on finding kindling that wasn’t soaked through. Even in areas of the ruins that had intact walls and ceilings, protected from the rainstorm, the humidity was chokingly thick. Mikleo bet that if he were to reach out and take a handful of air, he could wring it out like his clothing.

Mikleo wandered into one of the temple’s inner rooms; a large, spacious chamber with a towering statue of an ancient god at its head. He knew this temple well, he knew all of its rooms, all of its statues and carvings, all of the spots where the floors were weak and shouldn’t be stepped on. So, the new addition to this room stood out: a wild dog, curled at the base of the statue, and staring straight at Mikleo.

Mikleo was paralyzed in place, a scream for his uncle caught in his throat. He was terrified of dogs, and had been for all his life. But this was so much worse. He could at least expect a tame dog, a pet dog, to have some sort of training – something that would hold them back from snarling and barking and tearing him to pieces. A wild dog was a different story. Mikleo wondered if he was fast enough to get away and back to his uncle, before the dog could catch up to him. He wondered if playing dead would work.

The moment stretched on, and finally, the dog averted its gaze. It lowered its muzzle to rest on its front paws, sighing heavily. It didn’t seem interested in making a meal of Mikleo – it didn’t even really seem interested in moving from its spot. Mikleo allowed himself to relax, a bit, and take stock of the situation. The dog was quite unlike any sort of creature he’d seen before. Instead of a wiry coat of fur, it seemed to have… _feathers_ , feathers that were as bright and glimmering as gold. The dog was soaked through with rainwater, and as he looked closer, it was clearly shivering. Perhaps even injured. Perhaps it had retreated here, to this abandoned place, to succumb to its wounds and die a lonely death.

Every survival instinct he possessed screamed at him to run back to the temple entrance and fling himself down those waterfall temple steps to escape the beast’s jaws. But Mikleo ached with sympathy for the poor, lonely creature, and his soft heart overrode his common sense.

“Hey. Did you come in here because of the storm, too?”

The dog’s ears perked up at the sound of Mikleo’s voice, and its tail thumped against the stone floor once, twice. Mikleo swallowed down his fear and crept a bit closer.

“You…are you hurt? Are you going to bite me if I come in here?”

The dog tilted its head, one ear flopping to the other side with the motion, and thumped its tail once. Its pink tongue poked out of its muzzle just enough to be visible. Mikleo sighed.

“You don’t understand me. Just…don’t bark at me, okay?”

The dog thumped its tail again, as if in agreement, and curled a bit closer on itself before continuing to shiver. Mikleo didn’t really know what to look for in a wounded animal, much less how to help one…Mikleo suddenly felt the weight of the soaking wet coat on his shoulders, and slowly slid it off. He got as close to the dog as he dared, and gently threw the coat near it. The coat landed on the stone floor right next to the dog with a muffled, soaked flop.

“Here.”

The dog blinked, and looked from the coat to Mikleo, as if in disbelief. Mikleo rubbed at his upper arms, feeling a little embarrassed somehow.

“I’m sorry it’s wet, but…well. You obviously know what the weather’s like. It should still warm you up.”

Now that he was closer, he could see the dog’s eyes more clearly – green, green as a forest after a rainstorm, green as emeralds. They were beautiful, just like that glimmering golden coat of feathers. Mikleo felt a strange sense of intelligence behind them.

The dog whined, and nosed the coat back in Mikleo’s direction, even as it still shivered in every limb.

“It’s fine, my uncle is building a fire, and I have more coats at home…please, you can have it. I hope it makes you feel better.”

Even though he was afraid of dogs, if he could bring comfort to a hurt and cold animal in what could be its final hours on earth, Mikleo would do it without question.

A shiver of his own tore through Mikleo, and he was reminded of the reason why he came down here. He looked around the room, trying to spot something dry enough to feed the fire. The dog, now curled around his coat, watched him curiously as he wandered around the room. Mikleo felt compelled to make conversation – it seemed rude otherwise. He explained to the dog how they’d found themselves here, explained they were from the village of Camlann. Talked about his home at the village temple, talked about his family, who were traditionally the caretakers of said temple…

“…and my mother will probably never let me leave the village gates again, if she found out about all this,” Mikleo added, ruefully.

The dog gave a sympathetic whine. Its ears were perked, and its tail hadn’t stopped wagging since Mikleo had given it his coat. It was an excellent listener – Mikleo felt like it understood him, somehow, and that it wasn’t judging him.

“…you’re sitting under the statue of Zenrus, one of the heavenly lords of lightning,” Mikleo continued to explain. The dog’s ears perked further at the sound of that god’s name, and its tail wagged harder. “This temple used to be one of his centers of worship, centuries ago. But he disappeared one day, and Maotelus took over watching the area…Maotelus is the god enshrined in our temple in Camlann. No one really knows where Zenrus went, but my uncle says that even gods deserve their peaceful retirement years.”

Mikleo had found some dry vines behind a crumbling pillar, and he gathered them in his arms as he continued to talk aloud.

“We still take care of this temple, though – you can’t just leave something with this much significance to just rot away in the forest, even if most people have forgotten about it. Well, more specifically, my uncle and I take care of it, whenever he’s in the village. He travels so much, and only comes back once or twice a year…someday, I’ll set out with him to see the world. I know I will.”

The dog was gazing at him with something that almost resembled affection. Mikleo waddled closer, his arms full of vines and twigs. He looked over the dog, and felt himself relax a little bit. The dog had stopped shivering, and was stretched out more comfortably – Mikleo could now see that the dog didn’t have any visible wounds or broken limbs, and its bright, alert expression further assured Mikleo that it wasn’t on death’s door as he originally assumed. It was still soaked though – not that Mikleo really had a leg to stand on there, either. Mikleo thought they looked like quite a pair: a soaked feathered dog, and a soaked boy whose shoes were surely filled with more mud than he could comfortably imagine.

“Mikleo! Are you alright down there?”

Mikleo jumped at the sound of his uncle’s voice, and turned to give his farewell to the dog (and his coat).

“I have to go back – my uncle is probably worried. Stay inside until the rain stops, okay?”

The dog whined a little, but seemed to acknowledge the advice. It set his head down on its paws, and watched Mikleo leave; its tail not stopping once.

Mikleo headed back to the entrance with the kindling, and gave it to Michael for the sputtering fire. Michael looked him over with a confused expression.

“What happened to your coat?” Michael asked.

“Um,” Mikleo replied.

Michael dropped the subject, but made sure to add:

“Your mother’s going to kill me, you know.”

The storm outside seemed to be calming down, and by the time they were done drying off in front of the fire and doing some basic temple maintenance – pulling out weeds from cracks in the stone, moving artifacts from rooms that had started to crumble – it had broken entirely. Michael poked his head out, squinted at the sky, and sighed.

“I think it’s passed…we should probably head back before your mother sets out to track us down.”

Mikleo was already piling dirt on the fire to put it out, but looked over at Michael, concerned.

“What about taking care of the temple?”

“Today is no day for heavy maintenance,” Michael explained. “I’ll come back tomorrow when it’s dry to patch up the ceilings and reinforce the walls.”

Mikleo perked up. “Tomorrow? We can come back tomor--”

“ _I_ will come back tomorrow,” Michael clarified. “Sorry. You know I’d take you again if I could.”

Mikleo sulked. He knew his mother hated that her brother travelled so much – straying so far from home, for so long, with so little contact. She seemed to despair at how much Mikleo admired him for his wanderlust, and it was a small miracle that she allowed these hikes whenever Michael found himself back in town. She was sure to be in full fussing mode when they returned to town after this storm, and surely wouldn’t allow Mikleo out of her sight for a month or more. And there was still the matter of explaining the coat, on top of all that.

“Come on, pack up and let’s get going.”

Mikleo paused, and glanced down the darkened halls of the temple.

“…can you let me check on something first?” he asked.

Michael allowed it, and Mikleo set off into the halls. He found his way back to the inner chamber from before, and peeked in.

The dog was asleep – breathing steadily, and still curled around his coat. Its leg twitched in its sleep.

Mikleo smiled, and quietly made his way back to his uncle.

 

\--

 

The next few days proceeded as normal. Mikleo’s mother, Muse, scolded them both, fretted over Mikleo, scolded them both over Mikleo’s lost coat and muddy shoes. Michael left as expected after a day or so, itching to start a new adventure; leaving Muse to fret further over his safety, and leaving Mikleo bereft once more – alone with his collection of books at the temple, only able to dream about the world outside the village. And so would the days go, forever, unchanging.

…or so Mikleo thought. Because the morning after his uncle left, the dog from the temple showed up in front of his house.

It was definitely the same dog – that coat of golden feathers and those green eyes were unmistakable. Moreover, it still had Mikleo’s coat; carefully carried in its jaws, as if it was being conscientious enough to not tear it. It seemed to be patiently waiting for something…or someone. Mikleo watched the dog from his bedroom window. Who could it be waiting for, other than him?

Mikleo steeled his courage, and walked out to meet the creature waiting at the temple gates.

The dog brightened up as he approached – its tail wagged in full force, and that golden coat seemed to almost glow. Its coat was even more beautiful now that it was dry, and Mikleo could see the shimmer in it, and the fluffy, silver-white down around its neck and ears. It was truly captivating to look at, and Mikleo was able to push down the fear still in his heart at the sight of it.

“…you found me?” Mikleo asked quietly. “I guess you might’ve followed the scent on that coat.”

The dog seemed to remember that it was carrying the coat at Mikleo’s comment, and dropped it to the ground, nosing it towards Mikleo. Mikleo stared, trying to make sense of all this. After a moment, the dog backed up, giving Mikleo his space, seemingly mindful of his lingering fears.

Mikleo picked up the coat – it was covered in feathers and leaves, and smelled like wet dog, but there were no tears or rips anywhere. It was clear that it had been well taken care of.

“…thank you,” Mikleo quietly said.

The dog’s tongue lolled out of its mouth, and its tail thumped once before it rose to its feet.

“Wait,” Mikleo said. “Don’t go. You must be hungry, or thirsty…”

At those words, the dog couldn’t help the needy look that crossed its face – nor the little bit of drool around its mouth. Mikleo smiled despite himself, and asked the dog to wait for him while he went inside.

While Mikleo’s mother did not share his fear of dogs, she was always concerned for his safety – after listening to Mikleo’s plea to feed and water their visitor, after listening to his rambling tale about finding the dog at the temple, and seeing Mikleo’s coat returned in one (albeit filthy) piece, Muse went out with supplies with a thoughtful look on her face. Mikleo watched from the window as she tended to the dog – even managing to pet the creature; the dog leaning into her palm with a blissful look on its face. Mikleo felt a strange little twinge of jealousy.

When Muse came back inside, she gathered some old blankets, and made to return to the front gate.

“Mom?” Mikleo questioned. He couldn’t help the curiosity, or the hope. “Are we letting it stay?”

“Whether this creature is a herald of the ancient Lord Zenrus, or simply a wandering stray, night is coming, and we must offer our hospitality,” Muse explained.

And so they did, as the dog continued to remain around the temple for the next few days. Mikleo watched from the window every time his mother went out to offer food and water to their could-be-divine guest, and felt his courage and his longing grow – until finally, one day, he managed to voice what he wanted to do.

“Can I…take out the food today?”

Muse rose an eyebrow at him – she was well aware of his fear of dogs, so it was quite a thing to hear. But seeing the determination in Mikleo’s eyes, she relented, and soon, Mikleo was carefully approaching the beast waiting at the gates with their offering. The beast saw him, and gave an excited little whine; its tail going at full-speed.

“…here,” Mikleo said, finally, setting the food and water down. The dog managed to wait until Mikleo had stepped back before digging in to the meat. “You know, my mother thinks you’re a herald of Lord Zenrus. I don’t think a heavenly herald would drool so much when they eat.”

The dog looked up at him, and blinked. “Herald? Oh, no. I’m no herald. Zenrus is my grandfather, though, so I guess it’s not too far off…”

Mikleo thought he deserved a great deal of credit for not screaming at the sound of the dog’s voice. At the sound of the dog _speaking_. Perhaps a lifetime of serving in the village temple had prepared him for this moment, though Mikleo still couldn’t control the truly baffled expression on his face. The dog seemed to realize what had just happened – that its cover as a completely ordinary hyper-intelligent golden feathered dog was blown. It lowered its ears, abashed, and licked its chops to clean up its drool before it spoke again.

“I—I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to speak until we were alone,” it said. Or rather, he said. The voice coming from the dog was unmistakably that of a young man. “My name is Sorey, I’m a travelling thunder god. I…I just had to thank you for the other day in Gramps’ old temple. For your coat, and the company.”

“…you’re welcome,” Mikleo said, unable to manage anything else. Except: “I’m Mikleo.”

And such was the beginning of their strange friendship. Mikleo took up the responsibility of bringing offerings to their could-be-and-actually-definitely-is-divine guest, and he and Sorey began to speak more and more. Sorey was so well-travelled – even moreso than Mikleo’s uncle – and was eager to talk with Mikleo about the places he’d seen, over the many years he’d lived. (Though he still seemed to be considered quite young, by godly standards.) Mikleo began to look forward to their chats every morning and night more than anything – it was a lonely life in the village, with so few other children his age, and even fewer with his interest in history and travel. And it seemed that Sorey knew some of that loneliness, at least a little bit.

“…I wish you could stay,” Mikleo said quietly one night, after a few weeks of their acquaintance. “It’s so lonely here. And boring. You can travel anywhere you want, and I’m stuck here, just…”

Sorey lifted his head from Mikleo’s lap, and shifted to his feet. “…close your eyes, okay?”

Mikleo frowned. “…you’re not going to try and lick my face again, are you?”

“Hey! You had food on your face that day and I was just – listen, just close your eyes. I promise it’s nothing weird.”

Mikleo shook his head and did as he was asked. There was a whisper of wind, and the scent of a distant rainstorm – and then, a hand, a human hand, holding his own. Mikleo’s eyes flew open, and he stared at the handsome young man kneeling in front of him. Mikleo felt his cheeks burn. His long blond hair was tied into a high and messy ponytail, and it cascaded down his back; feathered earrings peeked out of the fall of it. His white and gold clothes were finely-made, and were as elegant as anything Mikleo had seen in the temple’s holy etchings. Those same sparkling green eyes that he remembered searched his own, and then, the smile that crossed the young man’s face was unmistakable – Mikleo could almost see that phantom tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

 

 

“If you need me to stay, Mikleo, I’ll stay. I’ve got nowhere to be, and…” Sorey trailed off, then scratched at his ear, a little embarrassed. His feather earrings jingled with the motion. “I mean, as long as your mom doesn’t mind me hanging around. I feel kinda bad for imposing so long…”

Sorey was lonely, too, just like him. They were alike in so many ways.

Mikleo pled his case to his mother the next day – not including certain details (like “the dog can talk” or “the dog is a god” or “the dog is a man and I can’t get his smile out of my head”), but begging her to let the dog stay permanently. Muse’s superstitious nature – or perhaps her spiritual intuition, in this case – and the dog’s friendly charm won out in the end, and she agreed to the arrangement.

Sorey and Mikleo were two peas in a pod, to be certain, and became fast, inseparable friends. Sorey was the north star in Mikleo’s life – unchanging, always there, a rock to lean on even as Mikleo grew and his life got more…complicated. The years seemed to fly by, and soon, Mikleo found himself twenty-four years old and gazing at Sorey’s face as he napped next to him. He didn’t look a day older than he did that day at the temple – Mikleo had gone from looking the part of little brother, to looking the part of the older brother. (Though he’d always had the maturity of the older brother. Maturity was not something that came easily to Sorey.) Soon, no doubt, he’d start looking like Sorey’s father. The thought didn’t bother Mikleo much – it came with the implication of many more long years with Sorey, which was all he wanted.

…Maybe not _all_ he wanted, Mikleo amended, rolling onto his back. They were relaxing in their secret place in the forest; a waterfall clearing, with a clear pond and soft grass, and plenty of tree cover to keep the sun out of their eyes. It was a wonderful spot to hide from his duties at the temple, and his…other duties. He still dreamed of travel, of seeing the world. And he dreamed of getting a break from his mother’s constant matchmaking, which this secret place helped with.

Sorey whined softly in his sleep, and scooted closer to Mikleo, his messy hair tickling Mikleo’s jaw. Mikleo smiled and stroked his head. He had appointments this afternoon, temple duties to tend to. But he could spare some more time for Sorey to get his rest.

He let his eyes drift closed, and dozed to the sounds of the forest around him.

 

\--

 


	2. Chapter 1: A Not-So-Perfect Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikleo gets dumped, gets his snacks stolen, and isn't allowed to get drunk -- but it's still a pretty good day regardless.

\--

 

“We need to talk,” Himeko said gravely.

Mikleo gave a pained smile over the rim of his teacup, and lightly set it back down on its saucer.

“Of course,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”

Himeko took a deep breath, and launched into a screed that Mikleo had heard few dozen times before – in different voices, and with different finer details, but with the same overarching message.

Mikleo was twenty-four years old, and had earned something of a reputation in town and the surrounding villages. This reputation was not entirely undeserved, when looking at the hard facts: he’d dated and broken the hearts of roughly sixty-three percent of the eligible female population in a fifty-mile radius. However, Mikleo wasn’t a heartbreaker by choice. His mother was dead set on chaining him to the village by any means necessary, and “You Need to Settle Down and Start a Family” was her current weapon of choice; when “You Need to Honor Our Family’s Duty and Tend to the Temple” had failed to inspire piety. The thing was, Mikleo also had no interest in settling down and absolutely no interest in children, so Muse had elected to force him on dates with every unmarried woman that she passingly caught the name of. She was a one-woman matchmaking service, and it was quite impressive in its own way. Though Mikleo did wonder how she managed to keep up with the temple’s day-to-day needs while taking on this little side gig of hers.

(Idly, as Himeko went on and on, Mikleo wondered how it would go if he brought up that point during his and his mother’s next fight. It would probably go very badly.)

Although Muse’s zeal for matchmaking was abundant, the quality of the matches...left something to be desired. Not a single one of these little relationships had lasted longer than a few weeks, and most of them crashed and burned quite spectacularly. (Usually the “burning” wasn’t literal; one memorable breakup notwithstanding.) Mikleo knew that he wasn’t a good fit for these girls – they wanted a quiet little life in the village and somewhere between two and a dozen children, and he wanted nothing more than to leave this town and travel the world with his uncle. Their life goals were simply incompatible, and even when it came to the finer details of shared hobbies and interests, kindred passions...well, there simply weren’t any. Mikleo could only think of one other person other than his uncle who shared his passion for history, and he—

“—honestly, from the rumors going around about you, I thought you’d be more – you know, more pushy, more of a scoundrel! Ravishing me against walls and over tables! But you’re more affectionate with that raggedy dog of yours than you are with me!” Himeko declared.

Himeko was clearly waiting for Mikleo to deny it, to reaffirm his devotion to her. The table fell into an eerie silence. Mikleo stared evenly at her, his expression very carefully blank.

“...’raggedy’?” Mikleo repeated.

Himeko shifted uncomfortably under Mikleo’s piercing gaze, and hemmed and hawed a moment before collecting herself. “Y-yes, well, I don’t know how else you want me to describe it. That bizarre fur that it’s always shedding on everything, and smelling like it’s just rolled in something foul, and that brainless expression it always has on its face--”

“I’m sorry,” Mikleo interrupted. “This isn’t going to work out.”

Mikleo signaled for the check, and the waitress brought it over wordlessly – she’d been witness to enough of these breakups that she knew to prepare herself the moment Mikleo walked in the door. Himeko sputtered, turned cherry red, and snatched up her purse before bounding to her feet. She stood in front of Mikleo, glaring down at him where he sat. He maintained eye contact, and raised an eyebrow at her.

“I hope you and that mutt keep each other company, and have a long life together,” she snapped before storming out of the cafe.

Mikleo wondered if that was supposed to be an insult. He bent down to dig in his pack for his wallet. The waitress took his money, and began to clear up the table as Mikleo finished his tea.

“She keeps looking back over her shoulder,” said the waitress. (She was named Lily, and had once been subjected to Muse’s matchmaking quest as well. Her breakup with Mikleo was years in the past now, however, and her doting husband was the village’s baker.) “I think she’s expecting you to chase after her.”

“Is she now?” Mikleo asked flatly. He swirled the tea in his cup before he took a sip.

Lily chuckled and shook her head. “Well, at least this one didn’t slap you. I had a cold washcloth all ready for you just in case.”

“You’re too kind.” Mikleo rose to his feet, and bowed at his waist. “Sorry about the commotion. As usual.”

“Are you kidding? We get so many customers who come in to watch the show. I think there’s a betting pool.”

Mikleo was happy to hear that he was supporting the local economy, and less happy to hear that he was the town’s designated soap opera star. His long brown hair, tied back in a low ponytail, hid how his ears burned red. He bade Lily farewell, and ducked out the cafe’s side door. He had a busy day ahead of him, and couldn’t let the embarrassment of yet another very public breakup get to his head. He had appointments at two houses, today, and had to run back to the temple to dress beforehand, and listen to his mother tut about how he just wasn’t trying to make it work with all the perfectly lovely girls she’d picked out for him—

Mikleo’s thoughts were interrupted by the press of a cold wet nose against his hand. Mikleo jumped, then sighed, and tried his best not to smile. Sorey’s sparkling green eyes gazed up at him; his expression bright and curious. (“Brainless”. Honestly, one would have to be pretty empty-headed themselves to even – no, no, there was no point in going down that path. Mikleo was a single man once more, and moreover, brooding would do him no good during his upcoming house-calls.) Mikleo reached down to ruffle Sorey’s coat, and rub at his soft ears. Sorey whined happily, his tail picking up speed and his tongue poking out of his muzzle as he leaned his head in to relish Mikleo’s touch. Mikleo felt his heart ache with fondness. Honestly, what was he to do with him.

“Come on,” Mikleo said. “We need to head back to the temple before I’m late for my house visits.”

Sorey trotted in step beside Mikleo, matching his pace as he always did. Mikleo knew that Sorey had all the speed and grace of the lightning that pierced the sky, and that poking along this sleepy village street was surely beneath his dignity as a god – and yet Sorey still walked beside him, ever since that fateful day in front of the temple.

A foul smell reached Mikleo’s nose, jolting him from his reverie. He crinkled his nose, and eyed Sorey as they walked.

“...were you rolling in something?” Mikleo asked sternly.

Sorey flinched, and he looked up at Mikleo with soulful, apologetic eyes. His soft fluffy ears lowered, making him a portrait of sincere, smelly contrition. Mikleo had a special weakness for Sorey’s puppy-eye look, and did not appreciate having said weakness targeted. He averted his eyes and managed to keep walking, keep focusing on the important things – getting back to the temple, getting to his appointments, and the fact that Sorey smelled like musky garlic that’d been baking in the sun too long.

“Sorry,” Sorey said. They were at the temple’s steps, and no one was around to hear him speak. “I’m...guessing your date didn’t go too well?”

“Nope,” Mikleo replied. He was already over it, not that there was really anything to get over. Himeko was surely right for someone, but Mikleo had little patience for the dramatic princess act. “And don’t try to change the subject. What were you--”

“Mikleo!”

Mikleo looked up to see his mother, resplendent in her priestess robes, approaching him. Her smile was bright and hopeful, and Mikleo felt a twinge of annoyance at the sight of it. (And no little guilt at that fact.)

“You’re back! How did it go with Himeko today?”

“Horribly,” Mikleo stated. “We didn’t work out. I’m sure she’ll be cursing my name all over town for the next few months.”

Muse sighed heavily, but didn’t really seem to be surprised by the statement. “Mikleo. You really need to try a bit harder. These girls are all so lovely, and you don’t let them get to know you at all...”

Muse sniffed the air, made a face, and looked down to where Sorey had sat himself at her feet. Sorey beamed his sweet doggy smile up at her, and wagged his tail; lifting one hopeful paw to ask for pets.

“--Sorey, you--” Muse coughed at the foul smell and covered her nose with her long sleeves, but leaned down to delicately pat Sorey’s head in spite of the olfactory assault. “Mikleo, please...before you go, would you...”

“I’ll take care of him,” Mikleo assured her. “Don’t worry. I’m off to get ready for my appointments.”

Thankfully, being as Sorey was a holy spirit of heaven-on-high, it wasn’t blasphemous for Mikleo to firmly instruct him to go wash off in the ceremonial waterfall on the temple grounds while Mikleo took a bath inside. Mikleo would have simply had him bathe indoors with him if Sorey wasn’t quite so smelly, and if Mikleo didn’t have business to attend to after. Mikleo walked out of the baths and back to his room, to find that Sorey had returned in his absence.

“All clean!” Sorey announced, smiling bright. “Promise. I even washed behind my ears. In both forms!”

Sorey had transformed into his human form, and was seated on Mikleo’s bed; casual, cross-legged, and half-naked. A towel was draped around his strong, broad shoulders, and his dripping-wet hair seemed to sparkle in the noonday light filtering through Mikleo’s windows. Water wandered in trails down Sorey’s bare chest and back and arms, outlining his muscles and making his tan skin glow. The drips meandered down Sorey’s body so enviously casually, and settled dark and damp at the hem of his trousers. Mikleo had lived his whole life in the presence of divinity, in the sight of sculptures and etchings of perfect, heavenly forms. Mikleo had lived almost his whole life by Sorey’s side. This practice hardly prepared him to stand upright at the sight of Sorey in this state, but he managed.

“...you’re dripping on my bed,” Mikleo said quietly.

Sorey blinked at him, then down at the bed, then scratched at his cheek, embarrassed. “...sorry. But I got myself a towel!”

_Yes, that tiny towel draped around those obscene shoulders of yours is doing so much for us right now_ , Mikleo thought to himself bitterly. He shook his head and averted his gaze (with no small effort), and went to his closet to dress.

“Just two houses today, if you want to tag along,” Mikleo said. His bath-robe fell to the floor around his feet. The cool air made goosebumps prickle along Mikleo’s bare skin. “I’m sure you’ve had a busy day already.”

A busy day of napping, chasing butterflies, and hitting up the village butcher for scraps. Mikleo turned with a smile on his face as he tied his robes into place, to see Sorey covering his eyes with both hands. Mikleo raised an eyebrow.

“Sorey. You’ve seen me dress before.”

Sorey peeped between his fingers.

“…yeah, but…”

Sorey trailed off, letting the rest of that statement hang between them. Mikleo sat down next to him on the bed, and settled a brush and hair tie in Sorey’s lap.

“Here. Help me put it up today, won’t you?”

Sorey’s face lit up as if Mikleo had offered him a fine spread of gourmet delicacies, and Mikleo dutifully turned to allow him to work. Mikleo let very few people touch his hair – none of the girls he’d dated had ever gotten the privilege – and even Sorey was granted permission only on special occasions. Mikleo was feeling sentimental, today, perhaps – or maybe he just was still stewing over that “raggedy” comment from earlier. Sorey brushed his hair gently, reverently; carding his fingers through the strands to coax it up. Mikleo let his eyes slide shut at the feeling. Honestly, “raggedy”. Sorey’s coat as a dog was soft as silk and glittered in the sun, and his hair as a human was pulled into a romantically-tousled high ponytail. He looked a bit rumpled, sometimes – when they came home from a hike through the forest, and Sorey managed to get more branches and leaves stuck in his hair than any of the actual bushes or trees – but his heavenly presence always shone through loud and clear. Mikleo didn’t have the time or patience for anyone who couldn’t see something so obvious.

“All done!” Sorey sounded proud.

Mikleo looked himself over in the mirror. Honestly, not a bad job at all.

“It’ll do for now,” Mikleo said. “Come on, we’ll be late.”

 

 

 

 

\--

 

The temple was called upon to bless and cleanse households and properties on a regular basis. Frequent cleansings prevented the buildup of malevolence, and decreased the strain on the region’s god, Maotelus. Malevolence built up more quickly in more populated areas, or in locales where bad energy was frequently generated – thus, a quiet village farm could get away with a cleansing only once or twice a year, while the village square called for weekly blessings. Family homes usually called upon the temple’s services every few months, and as the son of the temple’s head priestess, Mikleo often found himself making these house calls personally. The lower-ranked priests and priestesses were tasked with the repetitive and less personal cleanings of public areas, and the older, higher-ranked priests and priestesses served Maotelus directly. Mikleo didn’t envy the work of either faction, but visiting homes directly wasn’t a cakewalk either. Mikleo had to smile and make small talk and listen to gossip, and deal with the judgmental stares when he visited an ex-girlfriend’s family home. Worse, some of these places had barking dogs. All of these factors were equally unpleasant.

Luckily, neither of the homes today were overly-complicated appointments. Both had asked for a simple, straightforward blessing – armed with staff and holy sutras, Mikleo was able to sweep away the malevolence in the air and gathering in the corners of the foundation. Some homes were hotbeds of drama and sorrow, and required top-to-bottom cleanings with holy water – Mikleo usually was able to bring a few temple attendants as assistants to these difficult appointments. A certain amount of malevolence was a part of human existence, but if Mikleo suspected foul play, he reported his findings to his mother at the temple; Muse then saw to it that the source of the matter was investigated. A household continually generating bad energy was a strain on Maotelus, and a strain on the village’s harmony. It was Mikleo’s duty to determine what begged a closer look.

The sun was beginning to set, and Mikleo and Sorey were on their way home; Mikleo’s arms filled with offerings made by the household in thanks for the temple’s service. Homes presented many things as offerings, and today, Mikleo had lucked out and been presented with two boxes of beautifully-made sweets from the town’s bakery. The sweet bean paste filling each perfectly-round miniature cake was rich and smooth; the perfect complement to the subtle resistance the mochi shell gave to the bite of Mikleo’s teeth. Mikleo savored two treats from the box on the walk back, and Sorey – well, “savoring” wasn’t the term. It implied a certain level of care and slowness of consumption that Sorey absolutely did not do. However, he clearly enjoyed it; the drool was evidence enough.

They passed by Zaveid’s bar on the way back; the Spring Breeze. Mikleo eyed it, considering. He wanted very badly to get home and crawl into bed, but these sweets would be perfect with a drink or two…Mikleo felt Sorey tugging on the hem on his robe with his teeth, and looked down, frowning.

“Sorey. I can have a drink if I want to,” Mikleo said sternly.

Sorey made a whiny little howl, and tangled himself in Mikleo’s legs stubbornly. He couldn’t speak aloud to him – there were too many people around outside the bar – but he made enough of a nuisance of himself for Mikleo to give up and keep walking to the temple. Once they were out of earshot of the crowds, Mikleo requested an explanation.

Sorey’s ears went low, and those damn eyes of his stared up at him. Mikleo’s face flushed, and he managed to look away before the effect floored him.

“You can’t go in there looking…like _that_ ,” Sorey said. “Who knows what someone who’s had a few too many drinks will try to do!”

Mikleo didn’t really understand what Sorey was implying – he wasn’t planning on getting sloppy drunk while in temple dress, if he was concerned about Mikleo besmirching the temple’s good image. He also was fully capable of defending himself against some drunk who wanted to fight; not that Zaveid would let any of that go on in his bar. Still, the urge for a drink had passed, and they were back at the temple once more.

“I want to share some of these with Maotelus,” Sorey said, and stood in front of Mikleo until Mikleo slotted one of the boxes into Sorey’s waiting jaws for him to carry.

“Don’t sample too many on your way there,” Mikleo said, only half-joking. “I’ll go change and then come up to offer my respects.”

Maotelus was the region’s chief god, and the temple had the peerless honor of being his seat in the earthly realm. Mikleo did not see him often – after all, it was the job of the more senior temple staff to attend to him – but their past interactions had been wholly pleasant. Maotelus was warm, friendly, and as down-to-earth as a god could really be. He often asked about whatever Mikleo was currently reading or studying, and was just as excited to hear about what Mikleo’s uncle Michael was getting up to as Mikleo and Sorey were. He could have passed for another one of Mikleo’s uncles, if not for the fact that he took the form of a white dragon, about the size of a draft horse. His radiance and imposing figure was only undercut a bit by his youthful-sounding voice. Mikleo hadn’t ever seen him in a more human state – perhaps that kind of thing was improper for a god of his stature.

The rest of the temple was silent, devoid of any attendants rushing about – most had gone home for the day. True to his word, Mikleo climbed up to the highest part of the temple grounds, kowtowed at the gates, and went in to pay his respects.

“Mikleo! Good to see you.”

The greeting from Maotelus seemed a bit abrupt, a bit forced – as if Mikleo had walked in on a conversation that needed to remain a secret. Mikleo couldn’t pretend not to be curious (curiosity was in his nature, after all), but was a respectful man at heart – he knew better than to pry into godly business. Or…whatever he and Sorey were getting up to in their little clubhouse up here. Mikleo eyed the empty sweets boxes, and spied a teetering pile of more empty boxes stashed in a corner.

“Lord Maotelus,” Mikleo said, bowing low and placing his forehead upon the ground. “It’s an honor, as always.”

“Please, get up. Tell me what you’ve been up to lately.”

Mikleo shifted into a more comfortable position, and fixed the fall of his hair over his shoulder. “What can I say, really? Same as always. Uncle Michael should hopefully be visiting home soon; he’d have much more interesting things to tell you.”

“Will he?” Maotelus asked. He sounded almost relieved. “Good, that’s good.”

Maotelus seemed… he was still magnificent, of course, but he seemed smaller than Mikleo last remembered him. It was maybe just a trick of the waning light, or a fault in Mikleo’s memory. But the exhaustion written all over Maotelus’ face was no trick, to be certain. Mikleo felt a twinge of guilt. It was his duty to keep the town cleansed of malevolence, to decrease Maotelus’ strain on keeping the realm prosperous. Was he slacking on his appointments? Were his heartbreaking escapades causing a storm of negative energy to arise from the town’s distraught women? Mikleo fretted. He would have to scout the town tomorrow, to see if he could detect any increase in negativity.

“…I see that you enjoyed the offerings,” Mikleo observed.

“We did,” Maotelus agreed. “I…don’t suppose you could rustle us up some more next time you’re out?”

Sorey’s puppy eyes were hard enough to handle on their own, and paired with Maotelus’ pleading, hopeful look…well, Mikleo didn’t stand a chance.

“Of course,” Mikleo promised. “But don’t let Sorey steal all of them. He’s been getting a bit of a belly recently.”

“Hey!” Sorey said, offended. He scowled down at his stomach and poked it with a finger. “I have not.”

“I’ll try my best,” Maotelus said with a chuckle. “Now, why don’t you two head off to bed? It’s getting late.”

“Sure,” Sorey said. He leaned over to stroke Maotelus’ muzzle with his hand. “Night, Mao.”

“Good night, Lord Maotelus.”

They slipped out the grand door that led to Maotelus’ chambers and into the cool night air. Sorey had transformed back into his dog form, and trotted alongside Mikleo as they walked back to the temple’s living chambers.

“You and Maotelus seem to be close, lately,” Mikleo observed. “What have the two of you been getting into together? Hopefully nothing that the attendants will have to clean up after.”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Sorey assured before trotting ahead of Mikleo. “You promised to get us more sweets, though? Really promised?”

So, it was a secret, then. Mikleo tried not to feel hurt – since when did he and Sorey have any secrets between them? – and look at it logically. There were simply some things beyond mortal comprehension; godly business that humans had no business prying into. He could leave it at that, and try to quash the curiosity that still nagged at him.

Still, maybe he could buy himself a seat in Sorey and Maotelus’ clubhouse with some treats.

“Yes, yes, I really will. I’ll have the priests bring them up starting tomorrow.”

Sorey cast a beaming doggie smile over his shoulder, his tongue lolling out of his mouth joyously. Mikleo couldn’t help but smile back, and jogged to catch up with Sorey. The day was done, and tomorrow was yet to come – it was time to rest, and dream of the wide world outside the village gates.

And maybe, if luck was on his side, Muse would give him a few days’ break before setting up another date.

 

\--


	3. Chapter 2: At Our Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A uniquely weird date leads into a splash-fight and wet t-shirt contest at Sorey and Mikleo's special spot.

\--

 

Today was a rare day: Mikleo was completely, utterly free to do what he pleased. There were no duties at the temple to attend to, no appointments to meet, and, most wonderfully, no dates to suffer through. Mikleo had been looking forward to this single day all month, and awoke that morning to thoughts of spending the whole day at his and Sorey’s favorite spot in the forest: a secluded waterfall clearing, well-hidden by the Mabinogio Temple that overlooked it.

It would have done his heart good to while away the hours there in not-so-peaceful meditation, watching Sorey splash around in the clear waters, watching him dart through the rainbow spray, chasing squirrels, butterflies, motes of light, or whatever else caught his interest in the heat of the moment. He was always sure to get himself thoroughly soaked before launching himself at Mikleo for hugs, whether he was in dog or human form, and Mikleo could never quite stop laughing enough to properly scold him for it. Then they would dry off on the grass, and talk for hours about the wonders described in Michael’s latest letter, or whatever new books the library had gotten in from the city, or just lie there in comfortable, companionable silence while listening to the wind in the trees.

Mikleo’s heart ached in keen nostalgia. There would be no frolicking in the forest for him today, no listening to the way Sorey’s bright laughter harmonized with the sounds of the trees and rush of the water, no watching the way the mist from the waterfall glistened on Sorey’s tan skin and golden hair. For alas, the inevitable had taken place: his mother had surprised him that morning by announcing that she’d set him up on another blind date.

“It’s my day off,” Mikleo had said, through gritted teeth.

“I know,” Muse said. “That’s why I scheduled it today. It wouldn’t do for you to have to run off to an appointment midway through your lunch with a young lady.”

As if that had ever stopped his mother from scheduling him on dates between appointments before, and as if it would ever stop her from continuing to do so. Mikleo had half a mind to say no, to put his foot down – he served the temple day in and day out, and went along with Muse’s matchmaking schemes no matter how much damage they’d done to his reputation in town; not to mention the damage done to the town itself, if Mikleo’s paranoia about Maotelus’ current state proved true. Didn’t he deserve a day of peace?

...and yet, here he was, at the café, the dutiful son obeying his mother’s wishes.

He wouldn’t take it out on this girl, whoever she was. He wouldn’t embarrass her; make her wait for a date partner who would never come while he ran off to Sorey and their forest getaway. It wasn’t her fault, after all. It wasn’t her fault that Mikleo had to tell Sorey to go to their spot without him, and she couldn’t be blamed for the sight of Sorey’s ears and tail drooping with disappointment. Mikleo couldn’t even place the blame on Muse’s shoulders alone – he was the one who wasn’t doing anything to stop it.

“Normally you’re only this miserable after the date,” Lily idly quipped as she refilled his tea.

Mikleo sighed in agreement, and slanted a look at the clock. “Is a half hour still considered ‘fashionably late’? When do I get to call myself properly stood up?”

Lily chuckled, then straightened up, froze, and yelped. Startled, Mikleo looked up to see...a woman in a flowing dress and veil, looming over his table silently. Her face and form were entirely obscured, but she seemed to be staring directly into Mikleo’s soul. When did she come in? They hadn’t heard the bell above the café door jingle, nor the approach of footsteps.

“...pleased to meet you?” Mikleo offered.

His mysterious date remained still and silent. Mikleo rose to his feet and pulled out the chair opposite for her to sit down, and this appeared to satisfy her. She sat, and continued to stare while Mikleo awkwardly settled back into his seat. Lily poured the woman some tea, then made herself scarce – not that Mikleo could really blame her. Mikleo wondered if his reputation in Camlann had deteriorated to the extent that his mother was now only able to get him dates with what appeared to be some sort of vengeful apparition. Mikleo supposed starting to date within the spiritual realm couldn’t be much worse than his experiences within the physical.

“I hope you didn’t have to travel too far,” Mikleo said.

The woman slowly shook her head, no.

“Did you find the café alright?” Mikleo asked.

The woman nodded. Yes. She then picked up her tea, and drank it through her veil. A large wet spot bloomed and stuck the lacy fabric to her face.

This wasn’t even the weirdest date Mikleo had been on.

“I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name,” Mikleo said. “My mother didn’t, ah, bring it up when she told me she’d arranged this for us.”

The woman hiccupped, then began to shake. Mikleo wasn’t enjoying himself, but wasn’t about to let someone choke to death in front of him. That would probably make the date crack at least the top five of the worst dates he’d ever had. Before Mikleo could circle the table to help, the woman sputtered into hysterical laughter, and smacked the table with her hand.

“—oh man, I can’t keep this up,” said a familiar voice from under the disguise. “That tea thing—your face—”

Mikleo arched an eyebrow, and tugged the hood back from his date’s head. “Don’t you have better things to do than dressing up like the ghost of some blighted widow?”

Rose’s eyes went huge, nearly bugging out of her head. She yanked the soaked veil off her cheeks and chucked it at Mikleo’s face.

“I’m dressed as an exotic and mysterious agent from the furthest reaches of the land! Who’s secretly an assassin out to seduce the daughter of the wicked king so she can get close enough to kill him!” Rose said, a little too high-pitched and panicked. Mikleo wondered if that was in-character for an exotic, mysterious assassin-seducer-spy. “Not a ghost! If I wind up getting haunted by something because you made them think I was making fun of them, you’re gonna do the exorcism for free!”

Rose was a friend of Mikleo’s; a travelling merchant who regularly used the temple’s services to purify her caravans and storefronts in neighboring towns. This was for practical reasons, as the buildup of malevolence could indeed have adverse effects on any successful business, and for personal reasons, as Rose was absolutely petrified of the supernatural. She could barely even keep it together when she saw Mikleo approaching for appointments in his temple garb – it was such a stark contrast to her normal personality to be almost comical, if it wasn’t such a distraction to have her screeching and clinging to his leg while doing a routine blessing of the premises. Rose was a confident, capable woman; fiercely independent and level-headed. ...when she didn’t get it in her head to play dress-up and waste Mikleo’s time on what should have been his day off.

“I assure you, any evil spirits that see you like that will probably be too confused to be offended.” Mikleo sat back down in his chair, sighed, and smiled despite himself. “...it’s good to see you again, Rose. What brings you to Camlann? I hope my mother didn’t harass you into coming for...this.”

Rose settled her nerves with a sip of tea, made a face, and dropped several cubes of sugar into her tea before deeming it acceptable. And Mikleo thought that _he_ had a sweet tooth; his teeth ached at the very sight of it.

“Good to see you again too,” Rose said. “And nothing like that, don’t worry. I was...in the area, and thought that I’d swing by and ask Muse to set us up on a little romantic rendezvous.”

Mikleo couldn’t quite control his shock, nor the way he snorted out his tea mid-sip.

“Hey! I’m a catch,” Rose said. She lifted her chin proudly and stuck out her pinky elegantly as she sipped her no-longer-tea-as-much-as-sugar-water. “And your mama clearly agrees. You could at least stand to treat me like a proper lady while we’re on a date. But alas; tragically, our love can never be. For you see, the exotic assassin-spy sent to seduce the daughter of the wicked king wound up falling in love with the princess for realsies, which led to sexy and exciting complications in the mission—”

“You have a new girlfriend,” Mikleo summarized. It was a common enough event, as Rose seemed to go through them as quickly as he did, but she seemed to engage her love life with a bit more...gusto. She went in hard and usually ended things in flames, leaving a string of heartbroken women in her wake. Mikleo could only hope this new girl was going to be different. “Congratulations. Did that happen on the way over here after asking my mother to hook us up?”

“Mikleo! Read between the lines.” Rose gestured with her hands to illustrate, spilling tea on the table in the process. Mikleo rolled his eyes and grabbed a napkin to mop it up while she spoke. “My good friend is being strangled with the noose of the matchmaker’s red strings, so I thought I’d intervene to give you a day’s rest to skip through the meadows, wild and free.”

Mikleo was grateful for the effort, and for this reason, he thought it would probably be best to not mention to Rose that this was already his day off. Muse probably would have set him up on a date today with some other girl instead, if she hadn’t intervened. And it was always good to see his friend.

“Thank you,” Mikleo said, earnestly. “I really owe you one.”

Rose waved him off. “It’s nothing. Go run off and enjoy your day – I sure don’t want to be stuck with you on a date, we’d both be bored to tears. The only person who can manage to hold your attention for that long is probably that dog of yours.”

Mikleo couldn’t really find it in him to argue. He and Rose split the bill in the café, and bid their farewells. It was still early, and Sorey was probably just getting to their spot at the waterfall. He probably had forgotten to bring anything to eat while there – not that a god needed nourishment like humans did. Mikleo stopped at the shop to pick up some rice balls and meat buns, a few sweet stuffed pastries, and a flask of tea; there were edible berries and mushrooms around the waterfall clearing, so they could put together a splendid little picnic. Mikleo set off into the woods with the bag of treats; a spring in his step, and thoughts of the surprise he would be giving to Sorey warming his heart.

 

\--

 

“Mikleo! You’re here!”

Sorey’s joy to see him banished all other thoughts from his mind. He was standing at the center of the waterfall pool in his human form; already soaked to his knees, and smiling dazzlingly in Mikleo’s direction. It was difficult to be anything but positive in the face of that…face. Mikleo smiled, wide enough that his cheeks hurt, and gestured with the shopping bag held in his arms.

“I’m here. I brought lunch, too.”

Sorey perked up even further at the mention of food, and sloshed over to join Mikleo at the poolside.

“Did you get stood up on your date?”

Mikleo chuckled. “No. Though I suppose that might have been less strange…”

Mikleo explained to Sorey what had happened: Rose’s plot to free him for an afternoon, her odd entrance, and her equally abrupt exit. Sorey listened raptly, and gave a little laugh at the whole encounter.

“That was nice of her to try and help. She’s always been nice to me,” Sorey said. “She’s got her fair share of spiritual power, so I bet she could hear me if I tried talking to her—”

“Do you remember Rose’s last encounter with the supernatural?” Mikleo asked. “She tore a full-sized kitchen sink out of the wall and then tried to escape out a third-story window.”

Sorey sighed, then nodded. “…right, right. It’s too bad, though. I’d like to talk to her sometime, and thank her for always sharing her curry buns with me.”

“You tried talking to her once to thank her. She thought she was drunk, to hear the dog talking.”

“She _was_ drunk,” Sorey pointed out. “That was the time one of her ex-girlfriends bound a demon to one of her storefronts, and you had to go in for an exorcism.”

 Mikleo had his fair share of relationship wrecks in the past, but he could confidently say that none of his exes had ever tried to summon a demon to exact revenge upon him. …that he knew of, at least.

But that was enough of relationship talk – this was supposed to be Mikleo’s day off; a day he was freed of his responsibilities, free of duty both spiritual and filial. A day to enjoy the beauty of nature, and the beauty of Sorey’s company. Sorey grinned at him mischievously, and took the grocery bag from Mikleo; setting it down safely on the grass before he moved in. Although Mikleo had grown taller than Sorey over the years, Sorey remained more...well-structured than him, and Sorey was able to easily pick Mikleo up to carry him kicking and screaming under the waterfall to get him more properly soaked for the occasion.

“Sorey!” Mikleo squawked. “You—!”

“This is supposed to be your day off, isn’t it?” Sorey’s voice rang clear as a bell over the rush of the water. “You gotta look the part!”

Mikleo finally squirmed out of Sorey’s grip, though he shortly learned that this simply got him more wet. He landed with a splash in the pool underneath the waterfall, and emerged from under the water with his long hair plastered to his face. Sorey waded over to lift the bangs out of Mikleo’s eyes.

“There you go. Ready for a long afternoon of rest, relaxation, and—”

Mikleo lunged up, wrapped both arms around Sorey’s neck, and dragged him in close. Their foreheads touched, and their lips were perilously close. Mikleo could taste his breath, and see the shocked expression in those green eyes. Mikleo did not allow himself to examine the way this made his heart stutter to a stop, and charged on with his original intent: that is, to drag Sorey underneath the water with him. They rolled underneath the waves; their delighted laughter making bubbles that floated lazily to the surface, until they ran out of breath and had to return to the world above.

Mikleo was dizzy with breathlessness, and the world seemed to swirl around him in a haze of colors and brightness. Sorey remained a bright spot at the center of his vision; a clear lighthouse to swim back to, no matter where his life took him.

“Had to return the favor,” Mikleo said, once he’d gotten enough breath back in his lungs to speak.

 

 

The resulting splash-fight made them work up an appetite, and soon enough, they adjourned back to the shore to enjoy their picnic. They built a fire to warm up with as they ate. Mikleo briefly entertained stripping down to his underwear and hanging up his wet clothes to dry them faster, but the memory of Sorey’s too-close eyes and lips before they hit the water flashed through his mind, and flustered the very idea before Mikleo could consider it further.

“Mikleo,” Sorey murmured. They were stretched out next to each other on the grass. Mikleo had untied his hair to dry it, and Sorey idly played with the strands as he spoke. “Do you still dream about leaving Camlann?”

“Always,” Mikleo said. “It’s always on my mind.”

He could have been just like his Uncle Michael. He could follow his dreams at any time, pack up his things and strike out on the open road with Sorey trotting along by his side. But he was too much of a coward to take that first step.

“What about you?” Mikleo asked, turning to watch Sorey’s expression. “You were a travelling god before. Don’t you ever get the urge to strike back out on your own?”

Sorey shrugged, and smiled. “Sometimes, I guess. But if I was out on my own, I wouldn’t get to have snacks from the shops, I wouldn’t get to hear about your uncle’s latest escapades. And I wouldn’t be able to see you smiling every day.”

Mikleo’s heart skipped.

“When I finally get the chance to leave, you’re coming with me.” Mikleo reached out and touched Sorey’s cheek as he spoke. “We’ll travel the world together, and we’ll get delicacies and read rare books in distant cities, and meet up with my uncle every year to trade stories.”

Sorey’s expression was wistful and sweet, and his eyes fluttered shut. He burrowed in close to Mikleo’s side, and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. “That sounds perfect. I’ll always be by your side no matter what, Mikleo.”

Mikleo carded his fingers through Sorey’s thick hair, petting him until he heard Sorey’s breathing become slow and even. Sorey did love his naps, especially after a long day of mischief. It was an honor to be the one looking after him, the one making sure he ate and washed up and rested when he was too tired to keep his eyes open while engrossed in a book. It was an honor to be the one that made Sorey so happy.

Days like these, and moments like this, were what Mikleo cherished the most.

 

\--


	4. Chapter 3: Ladylake: The City of Ladies, and Lakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikleo almost has a pleasant date, but is interrupted by a dastardly plot and has to make use of men in black suits and a getaway car. (The last time he was in the city he found a dead body in the water supply, so it's still an improvement.)

\--

 

Sorey yawned wide, and settled his muzzle on his paws. He considered himself a morning person – certainly he was in comparison to how grouchy Mikleo was in the mornings, not that gods really needed sleep, normally – but it got lonely and dull waiting for Mikleo to get back from his early morning appointments. It made Sorey want to find a sunbeam to lie down in, and sleep away the hours where he couldn’t see Mikleo’s smiling face.

A warm breeze ruffled Sorey’s feathered coat, like a gentle hand. He sighed at the feeling, and let his eyes drift shut, letting his imagination wander.

He imagined a morning spent with Mikleo at the shrine, lounging on the stairs, feeling the air begin to warm around them, listening to the low sound of chatter from the attendants tending to visiting worshippers. He imagined Mikleo’s hand in his hair, his hand on his cheek, his hand in his own. He imagined not having to hide in his dog form; imagined being able to stand next to Mikleo. He imagined being able to have people look at the two of them, and whisper the same gossip that Sorey sometimes overheard while trotting through town on four legs.

_What a pair. A splendid match. Muse must be over the moon. Perhaps we’ll see some little ones around the temple grounds soon._

Sorey had travelled for hundreds of years, alone, without suffering overmuch for the lack of company. He had always loved humans; loved watching them live out their too-short lives, loved watching them grow and learn and make bonds. But, all the same, he always held himself back. He was always the observer; the scholar, studying a culture he couldn’t hope to ever really know. However, that fateful night in his grandfather’s old temple had changed all of that, it seemed. The lonely ache in Sorey’s chest was almost pleasant, in its own way. In Sorey’s more solemn moments, he understood that it was an ache that he would have to learn to cherish. In eighty, ninety years, when Mikleo couldn’t be with him ever again, Sorey would have to face down the wide world alone once more, with memories and the ache to last him a thousand years and then some.

A familiar scent reached Sorey’s nose, and his ears perked up; welcoming the interruption of such melancholy thoughts. Mikleo was back from his morning appointments, and it was Sorey’s (self-appointed) job to greet him. Sorey got up and shook out his coat, and gave brief regard to the feathers that flew loose with the motion. Maybe Mikleo would tut at the sight of his molting coat and insist on brushing him that afternoon. Sorey felt his tail begin to wag, unbidden, at the very thought. He bounded off, tail going and tongue out, to race toward the temple gates.

However, once the gates were in sight, he was greeted with an unsettling sight: Mikleo and Muse, arguing fiercely.

“—this has to stop, mother, all of this has to stop—”

“Oh, does it? And why is that?”

“Because it’s a waste of everyone’s time! None of the _matches_ you’ve talked up so much have lasted more than three months.”

“Because _you_ don’t put in the effort. It takes two!”

“Oh, so it’s all my fault? It couldn’t be because I don’t have anything in common with any of these girls? And it couldn’t be because some of those girls were misinformed by their matchmaker on my goals in life? It couldn’t, maybe, just a little, be a bit your fault as well? _It takes_ _two_ , after all.”

Mikleo had had disagreements with his mother before, especially regarding this topic. But this was angrier than Sorey had ever seen Mikleo _or_ Muse. Sorey regretted dallying along on the way here, and rushed down to intervene.

“You’re expecting to meet someone that shares all your hobbies and dreams exactly? An exact clone of yourself, perhaps?” Muse shot back. “You’re too young to realize how foolish that is! If you’d even tried to meet any of these girls halfway, _any_ of them, you would have been married a year in. You’re the one being stubborn and lazy, Mikleo; and hurtful, and disrespectful at that—”

“Let’s talk about disrespect,” Mikleo started in. “About how these torrid affairs have smeared our family’s name in town, and damaged the reputation of the temple. Have you visited Maotelus, recently? There’s something wrong with him, something making him weak and sick, and you can bet that it’s related to all the negative energy this idiotic soap opera is stirring up in town. Malevolence is building up faster than ever, and soon, it’ll be faster than we’ll be able to keep up with.”

No, no. That wasn’t why Maotelus was so tired and weak. It wasn’t the reason at all. Sorey knew the real issue; Maotelus had told him, with strict instructions to never speak of it to anyone, not even Mikleo. Sorey understood why – it would be something that would break Mikleo’s heart, and shatter his dreams. Sorey would sooner die than see either thing happen. But even though he was honor-bound forbidden from revealing the truth, Sorey could at least break up this disagreement between two of the people he loved the most.

Sorey tore in full-throttle, and jumped up on Mikleo to slobber kisses all over his face. Mikleo squawked at the sudden interruption, and stumbled back under Sorey’s weight. Once Mikleo was suitably covered in drool, Sorey disengaged and descended upon his next target. He swirled around Muse’s legs, whimpering piteously, rubbing his feathered coat all over her temple robes. He stared up at her with soulful eyes, and let his tongue blep out of his mouth just so. Muse was just as weak to his puppy-eyed looks as Mikleo was, and Sorey tried his best not to abuse his power unless it was absolutely necessary – like it was here, to break up a fight, or like it was last week, when Muse had fresh meat buns from the temple kitchen.

Thankfully, his intervention seemed to be just the thing needed to disrupt the argument. Muse tsked at him, and leaned down to stroke his head. Sorey’s eyes slid closed as her fingers crept behind his ear. Oh, Mikleo’s skill at petting was clearly passed down through the generations.

“Oh, Sorey,” Muse sighed. “Shedding again. It must be this summer heat. I’ll brush you out later today.”

Sorey whuffed in gratitude. He felt Mikleo’s gaze on him, and he cracked open one eye to meet it. Mikleo…was still ruffled in more ways than one, but was clearly grateful for Sorey’s help; and more than a little abashed.

“I’ll go on the date,” Mikleo said quietly. “Where is it today?”

“In Ladylake,” Muse said. Her shoulders straightened out, and she recovered from her mood to puff up a bit in pride. “You’ll be meeting the mayor’s daughter in the city’s most exclusive café.”

Mikleo’s jaw dropped. “Ladylake!? That’s two hours away by train!”

Muse’s hand slipped into her robes to produce a train ticket. “Yes, but the mayor ensured you’ll be travelling in comfort. He wants a good match for his youngest child, and asked me directly to have you court her. You made quite the impression on him during last year’s exorcism.”

Ladylake was a huge city, and huge cities generated a similarly huge amount of malevolence. Normally, this was tended-to by the city’s own staff of priests, but last year saw the city’s underground system of aqueducts grow so thick with cursed miasma that the city’s officials were dropping left and right. In desperation, the mayor – Mayor Diphda, Mikleo recalled – had reached out to the temple at Camlann, having heard rumors of the power of the gods that was hosted there. He paid a tidy sum to have a retinue of Camlann’s finest priests (and Mikleo) come to Ladylake to try their hands at the city’s salvation.

Mikleo had studied Ladylake’s aqueducts for years on paper, and had been thrilled to see them in-person, even though the circumstances weren’t…ideal, perhaps. Even with this study under his belt, it was difficult at first to pinpoint where the source of the blight was located in the aqueduct’s many winding paths. He stayed up for days, pouring over maps and textbooks with Sorey, and on the third day – buried under papers and with ink-stained hands – they deduced that the source was located directly underneath Ladylake’s city hall.

Now, this in itself was hardly surprising, and perhaps that was why the city’s officials rolled their eyes at Mikleo when he presented his findings. The city’s seat of government was a hotbed of malevolence and corruption? Water was wet, the sky was blue, and there had to be another source to blame for the malevolence seeping through the street drains and through kitchen faucets. Unheeded but undaunted, Mikleo descended into the aqueducts with Sorey at his side. They would find the source of the taint, and get to see the aqueducts’ ancient stonework up-close. Two birds with one stone.

One brief but exciting expedition, and down one howling ghost who had been assured that justice would be served, the aqueducts were cleared of malevolence…and they had a corpse on their hands. It was the body of a government official who had been missing for weeks, and – from the gossip Mikleo and Sorey had heard around town over their visit – he was a man who had been the leader of the opposition in the city council against the mayor’s plans to permit mining in the sacred mountains surrounding Ladylake.

“Mining in those mountains would loosen minerals into the groundwater,” Sorey had whispered to him in concern. “It would taint the whole city’s water supply, and make so many people sick. And those are the mountains that border Camlann, so Camlann could wind up sick too…”

“You’re not concerned about humans besmirching holy ground for profit?” Mikleo asked.

Sorey looked a little embarrassed. “Well, we name things sacred for a reason. The gods probably declared that land was ‘sacred’ because they knew it was dangerous for humans to develop it. But I guess it’s sacred to me, personally. I wouldn’t want them knocking down my grandfather’s old temple, or damming up the river that feeds our waterfall.”

Mikleo was just one man, and an outsider at that. He had no sway in Ladylake’s political circus, even if it could potentially wind up harming Camlann. He could only give a statement to the city’s police force, and pray that Maotelus’ protection would stay strong enough to protect the mountain that held so many sacred, precious things.

So much for that. He was stepping off a first-class cab on a train, and climbing into a car that was waiting to spirit him off to a date with a potential murderer’s daughter. He was without a single friendly face. (Sorey had stayed back in the village, watching after him mournfully as the train pulled away. The train didn’t allow pets. Mikleo wondered if they had a discount rate for local gods.) How could his mother even entertain this match? He had told her of the whole incident, of his suspicions and concerns. Surely she didn’t expect him to marry this girl, and use that to sway the mayor’s opinion…

As Mikleo stepped into the café and looked around, he felt entirely out of his element – as if he didn’t feel that way the moment he’d left Camlann. The city was so loud and busy, and this café looked so exclusive. Had Ladylake always been like this? Had he only been able to bear it because Sorey was with him? It did not bode well for Mikleo’s dreams of travelling the world, that was for certain. An older woman in an understated but well-tailored robe approached him, and bowed.

“We thank you for coming out all this way, good sir Mikleo,” the woman said. “Allow me to bring you to the young mistress’ private booth.”

Mikleo returned the bow, murmuring niceties, and followed the woman as she walked. He briefly entertained the thought of running away, but wasn’t sure if he’d be able to make it back to the train station on his own. Nor was he certain he could make his way out of the café on his own – he was led deeper and deeper through the luxuriously-decorated halls, and was thoroughly disoriented.

“Lady Alisha. Your suitor has arrived.”

“Thank you,” said the girl waiting in the private room. “Mikleo, was it? From Camlann.”

“Yes,” said Mikleo, a bit more tersely than intended. He heard the door shut behind him, and saw little option to do much other than sit down across from the girl – Alisha. “It’s a pleasure.”

Alisha gave a tight smile. “Y-yes, it’s a pleasure. I hope the trip was uneventful.”

“It was…” Mikleo trailed off, and caught a glimpse of the book Alisha had been reading when he walked in, and was now trying to stealthily slide off the table. “…is that the Celestial Record?”

Alisha visibly perked up, and hesitantly slid the book back onto the table. “Y-yes! Have you read it?”

“My uncle wrote it,” Mikleo said, with no little fondness and pride. “I read it when it was in its first draft.”

Alisha’s eyes went huge, and she gripped both sides of the book in her excitement. “Y-you did!?” she exclaimed. “Have you seen the original journals Mr. Rulay wrote his notes upon? Oh, I’ve always wanted to see them for myself…”

“No you don’t. His handwriting is terrible,” Mikleo said. “And most of them have some sort of horrible stain on them. But really, they’re fascinating. They go into more detail than the Celestial Record had the page space for, and they have a certain aura about them, it’s a…”

“Spirit of adventure,” Alisha said dreamily. “Yes, that’s how I imagined them.”

Alisha was blonde of hair and had eyes like new leaves in spring. She had the poise of a noble lady, and the easy, bright smile of a young maiden. Her violet robes gave her a summery sort of look, and the color suited her well. Her copy of his uncle’s book was well taken care of, and clearly well-loved; its pages dotted with bookmarks of every color and little slips of paper to mark notes on. For the first time since all this matchmaking nonsense started, Mikleo was actually…well. He could maybe entertain the thought of lasting more than three months with Alisha.

They took tea and lunch in their private booth, and chatted non-stop all the while. Alisha, like Mikleo, dreamed of seeing the world. But alas, as a politician’s daughter, she did not have the option to travel far and wide unescorted, nor the option to see the world as it truly was – the busy city streets and endless forests, the real world, not the carefully-curated world of exclusive teahouses and state dinners. However, she said, rising from her seat and offering her hand to Mikleo, she could at least show him around Ladylake.

“I understand that you likely did not get the chance the last time you were here, on business,” Alisha said. “I would love to show you some of our proudest landmarks, like the Great Waterwheel, and the Great Sanctuary…”

“Sounds great,” Mikleo said, making Alisha chuckle.

They left the café, with Alisha’s handmaid and a few men in dark suits following them at a respectful distance; allowing the “lovebirds” their privacy. Alisha was a wealth of information about the history of her city, and her running commentary on various landmarks was nothing less than riveting. Even his uncle’s book didn’t go into this much detail – he could almost hear Uncle Michael’s old rants about his publisher cutting out chapters’ worth of text. Alisha smiled up at him in the noontime sun, and…

…

…her pale blonde hair was the wrong shade, her green eyes were not rich enough in color. Mikleo shook off the feeling, and sighed. His mother was right. No matter what, it seemed like he’d never be satisfied with any match.

“Alisha,” Mikleo began. “I—”

“Little miss Diphda, out for a walk! What’s your father up to today!?”

“Selling us out for more gold to line his pockets!”

Mikleo looked up and around at the source of the jeers, and found that a small crowd had gathered across the street to sling accusations at Alisha. Alisha kept her back straight, and turned to address the crowd.

“Please, citizens of Ladylake!” she said, in a loud, clear voice, over the voices of the crowd. “I assure you, my father is not planning on allowing the desecration of the sacred peaks of Lakehaven!”

“That’s news to the mining guilds! They’ve been building some biiiiig machines lately!”

“Justice for Councilman Pellinore!”

“Pellinore rolls in his grave!”

A black car rolled up, and Alisha’s handmaid and bodyguards firmly and quickly took Mikleo and Alisha by the arm and all-but-shoved them inside. The door shut, cutting off the sound of the crowd outside. They were in their own separate cab from the driver and Alisha’s retinue, maintaining their privacy, so their courtship could continue. As if it could. Mikleo was silent, and could not quite meet Alisha’s eyes. Alisha, likewise, seemed to have retreated in on herself.

Finally, Alisha spoke up.

“I am sorry that you had to be caught up in Ladylake’s troubles,” Alisha said, and seemed entirely sincere at that.

“I was the one who found Pellinore’s body,” Mikleo said, without even thinking. What was he saying? “Underneath city hall, poisoning the aqueducts.”

Alisha looked at him in the eye, her expression heavily with sorrow. “You are a priest of the temple in the holy mountain. You can hear the voices of the gods?”

“I can,” Mikleo said.

“Can you also hear the voices of the dead?”

“I can.”

Alisha was quiet for a minute or so. She breathed.

“Did you speak to Lord Pellinore’s spirit? When you found his remains.”

“I did. He said he suspected your father was the one who ordered his death.”

Alisha’s next breath was ragged, and she took a moment to compose herself, dotting at her eyes with her hankie.

“I’m sorry,” Alisha said. “I have no right to weep. I’ve denied my family’s sins for too long, ignored all the evidence.”

Mikleo didn’t really feel the right to comfort this girl that he’d just met, and awkwardly reached out to pat her shoulder. She gave him a watery smile.

“I’m so sorry, Mikleo. Truth be told, this…I’m not very interested in this matchmaking business…”

Mikleo breathed out a sigh, and couldn’t help cracking a smile. “That’s one more thing we have in common, it seems.”

Alisha laughed, and some of the stress seemed to leave her posture. “Wonderful, that’s wonderful. I…I already have someone, you know. I can’t tell my father, it’d cause such a scandal. But she’s so beautiful, and exotic, and mysterious…”

An image flashed across Mikleo’s mind, of Rose and her bizarre costume choices. He knew better than to meddle in his friend’s love life, but he hoped Rose was being sincere when she referred to Alisha as more than just another fling. And he hoped that she was kidding about the wicked king assassination thing. Sorey always told Mikleo that she had the scent of blood about her.

“…do you also have someone in your heart, Mikleo?” Alisha asked curiously.

Golden hair and emerald eyes and a smile that blazed like lightning in a storm. The thought shook Mikleo’s heart.

“…no one in particular,” Mikleo said. “But I wish you the best with your special someone. And please, don’t stop pursuing your dreams. That’s a promise we can both hold each other to.”

“Yes,” Alisha agreed. “We’ll meet again and trade travel stories, I hope. My flower and I, and maybe someday, you and your one and only.”

The car dropped Mikleo off at the train station, and Alisha waved at him through the window before the car pulled away. She had directed one of her bodyguards to keep watch over the train station, to ensure Mikleo’s safety while he waited for the train to come. Mikleo didn’t have time enough to raise his hackles at being watched, before he realized that he was already being watched by a familiar figure.

“Sorey?” Mikleo said, shocked.

Sorey was in dog form, and was sitting near the outdoor gardens at the station, watching Mikleo out of the corner of his eye. He was very clearly sulking. Mikleo spotted an ice cream vendor nearby, and bought a vanilla cone before jogging over to Sorey.

“Sorey. You’re here,” Mikleo said, with no little surprise. “How did you…?”

Sorey turned up his nose at the ice cream Mikleo offered, and huffed through his muzzle.

“I can fly, you know,” Sorey said snippily. “These feathers aren’t just for show.”

Mikleo was aware of that little fact about Sorey, but that didn’t explain why he followed him here. The ice cream was melting onto his hand, and he gave his fingers a quick lick. Sorey stiffened, and looked away again.

“Sorey.” Mikleo offered the ice cream again. “You must be starving. And it’s hot out. Please, have this.”

“You should probably share that with Alisha,” Sorey said, almost accusingly. “It looked like you two had such a nice time together today. And you went sightseeing without me.”

Mikleo dotted the tip of Sorey’s nose with the ice cream, and watched as Sorey was helpless but to lick it off.

“How long were you watching us?”

“I saw you go into the café, and then walk off for a city tour arm-in-arm.”

“So, you didn’t see the crowd yelling at Alisha. Or how we got shoved into an unmarked black car to escape in one piece.”

Sorey stared at him in shock, his eyes softening in concern.

“…no, I didn’t,” he admitted. “Mikleo, are you alright? What happened?”

Mikleo told him the whole story, feeding Sorey the melting ice cream as he spoke.

 

 

 

“…so she’s already got someone in her heart, and we have more reason to be concerned about Rose’s extracurricular activities,” Mikleo finished.

Sorey nuzzled up to him, his previous sulky mood completely absent. Mikleo accepted the affection greedily, and buried his face in Sorey’s silky neck.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you,” Sorey said quietly.

“I’m glad you were safe elsewhere,” Mikleo replied. “Plus I know you get really nauseous in cars.”

Sorey huffed again. “That was one time!”

Mikleo laughed in delight, and heard announcements for the approaching train.

“I’ll hop on that train and head home,” Mikleo said. “Will you be okay flying back?”

“Of course!” Sorey said, with a doggy smile as bright as his human one. “I’ll beat you there. Meet me up in Maotelus’ chamber, and you can tell us both all about Ladylake?”

“Of course,” Mikleo replied. “It’s a date.”

Before Mikleo could realize what had happened, Sorey stole a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving the heavy smell of vanilla and a lingering tingle of warmth. Mikleo watched Sorey trot off into the gardens, toward a secluded patch of trees to mask his takeoff. He barely heard the bells announcing his train, and very nearly missed it, were it not for the station attendant approaching him directly.

He sank into his seat on the train, and watched the countryside fly by, with thoughts of touring Ladylake again with Sorey by his side racing through his mind.

 

\--


	5. Chapter 4: No Dogs on the Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikleo is drunk enough to get maudlin and horny, which is a deadly combo.

\--

 

It had been stifling in Zaveid’s bar. It was a warm summer evening, with the scent of an approaching storm in the air: a beautiful night to enjoy a drink on the bar’s outdoor patio. Unfortunately, it was a pretty popular sentiment – it seemed the whole town had turned out to drink. Between taking orders, filling orders, delivering orders, and breaking up the occasional fight, Zaveid had barely had a moment to come over and chat with them…not that Mikleo would ever admit to missing that man’s endless babbling. Or his lewd comments on Mikleo’s dating life. Or his insistence on telling Mikleo each and every bit of the latest gossip in town, in excruciating detail.

…maybe Mikleo did like hearing the gossip, sometimes. But only when it didn’t involve him. And that seemed to be getting a rarer and rarer thing.

If he took a step back and looked at things critically, he could see how Muse’s harebrained matchmaking schemes were out of concern, out of love. He’d seen over the years how his mother fretted daily for her brother’s safety – lighting incense at the shrine and offering up fervent prayers to Maotelus, never quite knowing where her brother was in the wide world, never knowing if he was taking drinks with dignitaries in a bar or bleeding out in a ditch on the side of the road. She just wanted to keep her son in a place where she could protect him. But Mikleo was so tired of being caught up in the torrid web of drama in this tiny town; of being the star of a long and meandering soap opera he never wanted to be in. It was all he could manage, sometimes, to not just walk through the town gates and never come back.

And now, there was the possibility that it was all catching up to them in the worst way possible. Maotelus was being sickened, weakened by something, and without his support, malevolence in the village was building up so much faster than it should. The worry etched on Sorey’s face whenever he returned from visiting their little clubhouse was crystal clear, no matter how hard he tried to hide it with that carefree doggy smile. Certainly, the taint could be blamed on Ladylake, and their intrusion on sacred grounds in the name of greed. But Mikleo had the terrible feeling that wasn’t the whole story.

…but, no matter the cause, no matter Muse’s reasons, the very idea that his mother would try to set him up with the daughter of the man who had his eyes set on destroying the forest of the gods to line his own pockets…

Mikleo flopped backward onto his bed, and let his eyes fall shut.

He felt a cold, wet nose poke his cheek. Mikleo sighed aloud, and raised a hand to stroke at the golden feathered head the nose was attached to. Mikleo heard a pleased little whine as he scratched behind the dog’s ear, and tried not to smile.

“You know the house rules,” Mikleo said hoarsely, his voice rough with drink. “No dogs on the bed.”

Sorey huffed and flopped down on the bed defiantly. Muse was home tonight – she wasn’t really the type to go out drinking and throwing punches at the Spring Breeze, no matter how lovely the summer’s eve – but he doubted she’d decide to pay them a visit tonight. She clearly sensed Mikleo’s mood when he got back from the bar, and would likely elect to let him sleep off the snit he’d worked himself into. (Then she’d wake him in the morning with yet another matchmaking opportunity, and—)

“You drank way more than usual tonight, Mikleo,” Sorey said. “You feeling okay?”

A hand came up to poke Mikleo’s burning red cheek. Mikleo opened his eyes to take in Sorey’s now-human form. The lingering crackle of energy from his transformation tingled Mikleo’s skin, and the scent of ozone filled the humid night air. Camlann was a sleepy, quiet place. But there were certain wondrous and spectacular things about this town. Sorey was most certainly one of them.

He had drunk maybe a few more than usual, tonight. Maybe that was why he was feeling so maudlin, and maybe that was why he was feeling so lost as Sorey’s gentle, concerned eyes roamed over him. Maybe that was why his head was swimming. Too many drinks, and the summer heat. Sorey’s blond ponytail slid over his shoulder as he shifted to lay parallel to Mikleo. He propped his head up on his bent arm, and gave Mikleo a smile that sent Mikleo’s head reeling once more.

“No dogs on the bed,” Sorey repeated. “But I can change back if you want. …or I can leave if you need some time alone.”

“No,” Mikleo said. “No.”

Mikleo’s hand came up as if to stroke Sorey’s ponytail, then stopped. He let the hand fall back against the mattress, and sighed.

“Stay here. Just like that.”

Sorey smiled, wide and delighted, and wriggled happily into the sheets. Even in this dour mood of his, Mikleo couldn’t help but smile fondly.

“Just as long as you don’t shed all over my sheets.”

Pausing in his attempts to burrito himself in Mikleo’s blankets, Sorey popped his head out from the bundle and pouted.

“I don’t shed,” he said, miffed.

“Oh?” Mikleo said, gesturing to the right side of his trousers. Sorey walked on his right when accompanying him around town in dog form, and as a consequence, Mikleo’s right side was usually covered in downy fluff. As it was now.

Sorey pouted more, and bundled himself up tighter. Mikleo’s heart ached at how cute that furrow between his brows was, how cute that lower lip was. How badly he wanted to kiss both—

No. That was a dangerous line of thought.

He had drank too much tonight.

“Mikleo?”

And now Sorey was concerned again. He’d scooted back over to Mikleo’s side, the blankets draped loosely around his shoulders. He looked troubled, and while Mikleo managed to stamp out any further thoughts of kisses, Mikleo allowed himself to reach out and give Sorey’s head a comforting pat. Sorey leaned into it, but those green eyes continued to search him, prod him.

“Sorey…”

“Mikleo,” Sorey replied, his eyes shining and gentle and...

Gods above, why did those eyes of his have to be so cute?

“…if I ever,” Mikleo began. “ _Ever_ entertain another one of mom’s little prospects again, it’ll be too soon.”

Mikleo could usually put on a charming façade for the duration of dates, and feign interest in the topic of conversation – though it was usually nothing but more small-town gossip. (There were only two people Mikleo had ever met that could have engaging, hours-long conversations with. One of those two people was sitting on his bed right now.) Even if he wasn’t interested, that wasn’t the dates’ fault. He could at least try to show them a good time. But this most recent date had been enough to shake the very foundations of that gentlemanly resolve.

“We barely even sat down before she was attached to my arm, and talking about how many children she wanted. She kept playing with my _hair_.”

Sorey winced, at that. He knew Mikleo better than anyone – certainly enough to know that touching Mikleo’s hair unprovoked was a one-way ticket to…well, a stern look and avoidant behavior. But it was a _really_ stern look.

“Four boys, all named after her uncles, and one girl, named after the goldfish she won from the summer fair when she was eight.”

“…was it a nice fish, at least?”

“Oh yes. She spoke about it at length. _At length_. It died tragically two weeks after the fair and she is firmly convinced that she is destined to give birth to its reincarnation as her daughter.”

On paper, that was far more of a deal-breaker than the hair thing, though Mikleo wasn’t entirely convinced by the end of the date that the girl wouldn’t all of a sudden demand a lock of it for some kind of black magic ritual. He knew that he’d already dated and broken the hearts of many of the women in town. Was his mother scraping the bottom of the barrel with available prospects, or had she been truly touched by this girl’s pure-hearted desire to give birth to a fish? It would remain a mystery, because Mikleo was done. Permanently.

“I’m just…so tired,” Mikleo said, slurring his words a bit. “So tired of all of this. So tired of these awful dates, so tired of all of _this_.”

Too much to drink. Too much to drink. He was exposing the rawest, most vulnerable part of him. But it was to Sorey, and Sorey alone. He knew that Sorey would be gentle with that heart of his.

Sorey was still just looking at him, with those soulful eyes. He tilted his head to the side, biding Mikleo to continue. He was so close that the fine hairs on the back of Mikleo’s neck were prickling with electricity. Surely, it was just the electricity.

“I’m never dating anyone ever again,” Mikleo said firmly. “I’m never sleeping with any of them again. _Never_.”

Sorey’s cheeks turned apple-red at that statement, and Mikleo’s head was sent swimming once more.

“But – don’t you have…” Sorey went quiet for a moment, apparently searching for the right words. He waved a hand vaguely. “…needs?”

Mikleo snorted. “Nothing that I can’t take care of on my own. Certainly nothing that I’d risk becoming father to a fish for.”

Sorey rubbed at one blazing-red cheek with his palm. “But…never again? That sounds so lonely…”

“Do you mean to tell me the gods feel the same kinds of petty hungers that humans do?” A tiny smirk tugged at the edge of Mikleo’s mouth at how the blush on Sorey’s cheek spread to his ears, and down his neck. He wondered how low it went. “And here I thought that all your most urgent desires revolved around trying new and exotic cuts of meat.”

Sorey scowled at him. “I’m more than just meat, you know.”

“Ice cream, too. My mistake.”

Sorey grumbled and threw off the blanket. Suddenly, he was close to Mikleo – dangerously close. His breath mingled with Mikleo’s; flitted over Mikleo’s face. Mikleo could feel the heat of his skin, and the tingle of thunder rattling his bones. Sorey’s eyes were huge and luminous in the lantern light.

They held themselves there for a long, silent moment, but then Sorey retreated without a word; scooting back on the bed as if he was considering hiding in a burrito again. Despite the sweltering summer heat, Mikleo felt the loss of Sorey’s warmth keenly enough to shiver.

Sorey forced a laugh, and smiled in a way that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Of course you shouldn’t have to force yourself on those dates just for… _that_ ,” Sorey said. His voice seemed high-pitched and a little fake. “But you shouldn’t…deprive yourself. We’ve all got hungers. Y-you could even sleep with me instead, if you wanted to. Or needed to.”

It was a joke. Of course it was a joke. Perhaps Mikleo might have simply laughed the comment off, on any other night. But there were a few key variables in play:

One. He had really had too much to drink.

Two. The frustration of the date, of the dates, of his feuds with Muse, of the matter of Maotelus, of the matter of Ladylake – the matter of _everything_ was crushing Mikleo to his breaking point.

Three. The nostalgia of this hot summer night, bringing up memories of countless evenings spent whispering secrets to Sorey and dreaming of a future where they’d both be free, was simply too much for Mikleo’s heart to bear.

Sorey was just too cute. (This was not a variable in the mathematical equation that plotted out the course of the evening, but rather, a constant in Mikleo’s life. A constant for so long, since he was so young – Sorey was a part of him, as dear as his own limbs, and twice as inseparable.)

There were no dogs allowed on the bed. House rules. But Sorey wasn’t a dog right now, was he?

Slowly, Mikleo crawled over to where Sorey was crouched on the bed. He reached out to touch his cheek, to lay his hand on Sorey’s; bidding him to uncurl his fingers from where they were curled, white-knuckled, into the bedsheet.

“Could I?” Mikleo asked, voice low and soft. He tried to sound suave, but it came out far shyer than he intended. “Is that so.”

Sorey’s eyelashes fluttered, and he tilted his chin up minutely. The dark green of his eyes looked all the richer beneath the veil of his lashes. It looked like he was asking for a kiss.

When Sorey asked for sweets, Mikleo caved. When Sorey asked for pats and cuddles, Mikleo caved. When Sorey gave him those soulful puppy eyes and stared, heartbroken and so hopeful, at the steaks in the butcher’s glass display, Mikleo was helpless but to cave. Mikleo could pretend he was paying service to Sorey’s illustrious position as a god, following in his family’s footsteps of keeping the shrine – but really, Sorey was spoiled rotten and it was all because of Mikleo.

Mikleo moved his thumb from the curve of Sorey’s cheek to brush it against the fullness of his lower lip. He was – hesitant to take Sorey up on the offer. Because it was a joke, of course it was a joke, Mikleo wasn’t so drunk he couldn’t realize that. But even with Sorey sitting here pleading for a kiss, he didn’t want to pressure him into something that they’d wind up regretting. A whine tore out of Sorey’s chest, and the warm damp breath against Mikleo’s skin went straight to Mikleo’s head – went straight to his cock.

“ _Mikleo_ – _”_

Before Sorey could finish moaning out that plea, he dove in and pressed his lips to Mikleo’s; cutting himself off.

Mikleo had been with his fair share of women, thanks to Muse’s obsessive matchmaking. He’d been with more than a few men as well. He was not some blushing virgin, able to be brought to the brink by a simple touch of lips on his own. And Sorey was certainly no expert – he kissed back eagerly, but clumsily and sloppily; with too much tongue, knocking their noses together whenever he tried to dive in more.

(Mikleo would just have to tell him, next time, that humans don’t kiss like dogs, and to take it easy on the tongue.)

(…next time? Too much to drink, to have these kinds of thoughts.)

Mikleo pressed Sorey backward, just a little; meaning to ease him slowly onto his back on the mattress. But Sorey went down like a sack of rice – flopping down and wiggling into the sheets as he needily moaned and whimpered for Mikleo to give him more kisses, more touches to his hair and jaw and neck and chest; arching his back to try and direct Mikleo’s hands down, down. Even taking into account Sorey’s less-than-expert kissing skills, Mikleo wondered if he’d done this with anyone else. The idea made his heart twinge with jealousy, and Mikleo wasn’t so stupid that he couldn’t realize how hypocritical that was. He’d dated people in front of Sorey, even accidentally locked him in the room once as a dog while he fucked someone. And here he was, yanking Sorey’s collar open and down and sucking a purple bruise onto the join of Sorey’s neck and shoulder to serve as a reminder to anyone who saw it.

“Ah!” Sorey arched into the feeling of Mikleo’s teeth, and his whole body shook underneath Mikleo’s weight on him. His hands gripped tight on Mikleo’s shoulders, holding him in place. “Mikleo, please, Mikleo—”

“Shh,” Mikleo murmured, sliding up to plant another kiss on Sorey’s lips. “Mom’s home tonight. Do you think you can be quiet, or do I have to gag you with one of my hair ribbons?”

Sorey’s pupils went even wider and darker at the suggestion; nearly eclipsing the green of his irises.

“…I can be quiet,” Sorey whispered, as if to prove the statement. His hips wiggled on the bed, drawing Mikleo’s eyes to the way his trousers were tented. _Well_. Mikleo had always been a bit jealous of how well-built Sorey’s body was, and it seemed he was…proportionate. “I swear I can. Please, please…”

“I’ll believe it when I hear it.”

As insurance, Mikleo leaned in to seal his lips to Sorey’s while he worked on getting that shirt of his unbuttoned, those trousers unfastened and shoved down his hips. Gods, “well-built” didn’t cover it. Mikleo felt his blood run hotter and hotter as more of Sorey’s skin was revealed. That warm, tan skin; those beautifully-defined pecs and shoulders just begged to be marked up by Mikleo’s lips and teeth. Mikleo brushed a hand appreciatively down the center of Sorey’s chest, and Sorey arched into its slow path; curving his spine so prettily.

“Mikleo…” It was such a plaintive, pathetic little whine; and triggered Mikleo’s instincts to fuss over him. Perhaps it was just in Mikleo’s blood to serve the needs of the gods. “Please, let’s kiss more, please…”

Mikleo idly traced his nails up the skin of Sorey’s bare thigh, trailing a path up to where that thick, gorgeous cock stood tall and begging for attention. He relished in the way Sorey shivered.

“You sound ready to come already, Sorey,” Mikleo said. “I think I might have to just leave you here to cool off for a few minutes so you can settle down.”

Even saying that, Mikleo brushed his fingers against Sorey’s cock; unable to keep his hands off of it. Sorey _keened_ at that light touch alone, and for a moment Mikleo really was afraid that he’d wind up coming then and there.

“Don’t leave,” Sorey pleaded. “Don’t stop.”

Mikleo hummed in agreement, taking Sorey’s balls in his hand to gently rub. Sorey’s front had many attractive features, but Mikleo was also quite interested in seeing the sights on his other side.

“Sorey. Will you turn over for me?”

Sorey’s whole body went stiff at the question, and in a flurry of limbs, Sorey had turned himself onto his stomach on the bed. He gave Mikleo a molten look over his shoulder, and arched his back to showcase his assets.

“Mikleo,” Sorey said. “You’re still dressed. Not fair.”

Mikleo barely managed to tear his eyes away from Sorey’s strong back and perfect ass, and brought his hands up to tend to his own clothing with a distracted air. Sorey’s eyes didn’t stop watching him for a single moment as he undressed – honestly, it made Mikleo blush; the redness spreading down his chest. By the time he finished, Sorey was biting his lip and rutting himself against the mattress; making tiny little noises that were going to drive Mikleo insane.

He climbed atop Sorey, pressing his chest to his firm back, his hips to that plush ass. He ran his hand up Sorey’s spine, up his nape, and into Sorey’s hair; tugging at the feathered band that kept his long golden hair up in a ponytail. His hair tumbled down, over his back and shoulders, swirling into the bedsheets. Mikleo made an appreciative noise, and slid his hand to the back of Sorey’s head to tangle his fingers there.

“Mikleo, Mikleo, please, yes, just—” Sorey babbled desperately, frantically.

Mikleo only intended to enjoy the feeling of Sorey’s silky hair between his fingers, and maybe see if Sorey liked having it tugged on a little. But Sorey appeared to have misconstrued the motion. He bowed his head forward, planting his forehead to the mattress and tilting his hips up and back – popping up his ass, presenting himself like a dog in heat.

Mikleo had drank too much. This was a fact. But even while stone cold sober, he wasn’t so sure he’d ever be able to turn down a sight, or an offer, like this. He wasn’t sure anyone, god or mortal, truly could.

There was oil in Mikleo’s nightstand. Its fragrant herb smell travelled thickly through the humid air as Mikleo slicked his fingers, and it glistened temptingly on Sorey’s skin as Mikleo traced a finger up the back of his knee, up his thigh, into the crease of his flesh. Sorey was keeping his promise to keep his voice down, but that didn’t mean that he was silent – far from it. He moaned and whimpered and pleaded with every brush of Mikleo’s skin on his own, and chanted Mikleo’s name like a prayer as Mikleo slicked and spread him open. Mikleo didn’t really know if he would really be able to stay this quiet in a few minutes. He didn’t want to introduce his mother to the fact that Sorey wasn’t just a normal dog by having her walk in on them rutting like beasts.

(Though maybe it would dissuade her from further matchmaking attempts. It would be something to consider.)

“Mikleo, Mikleo, please, Mikleo, put it in, put it inside…”

“Now, where on earth did you learn to talk like that?” Mikleo purred. He swatted Sorey’s backside lightly to punctuate.

Sorey moaned so loud at the tap that Mikleo had to scramble over and put a hand over his mouth to silence him. He strained his hearing, trying to determine if Muse had heard them; while Sorey strained underneath him and pushed his hips back, begging with his whole body for Mikleo’s cock. Sorey rumbled another moan against Mikleo’s hand, and opened his mouth, drawing two of Mikleo’s fingers inside to suck.

That was it. Mikleo fumbled between them, lined himself up, and pushed inside.

He wasn’t sure if it was the drink, or the atmosphere, or the company. But Mikleo hadn’t felt this way in bed with someone for—years. Or maybe ever. Sorey was so responsive to every touch, every thrust, every burning kiss they shared; those moans and sweet whimpers of his name were making Mikleo’s mind go white. He tried to regain control, tried to rein himself in – how embarrassing would it be for him to come _this_ quickly? And it just wouldn’t do to let himself finish before Sorey. He was a gentleman to all his dates, and put their needs first.

“Sorey,” Mikleo purred in Sorey’s ear, giving it a little bite. “ _Ah_ —you feel so good, Sorey…”

He angled his hips just so, and Sorey sobbed; nearly collapsing into the mattress as his limbs shook with the sensation. He had strands of Mikleo’s hair tangled around his fingers, and yanked them taut with the motion. It did not even cross Mikleo’s mind to be upset at the offense to his locks. The very air around them was crackling with electricity; thrumming and vibrating through Mikleo’s bones and driving him onward towards release.

 

 

 

“Mikleo, _there—_ right there, don’t stop,” Sorey gasped out with mounting desperation clear in his voice.

Mikleo bit down on his ear again, and pressed his nose into Sorey’s golden hair. He slid a hand down to stroke Sorey’s cock in time with his thrusts. “Sorey. Let me feel you fall apart around me, okay?”

Sorey was a well-behaved little pup, and listened to his Mikleo so well. He came in a flurry of shivers; his insides squeezing and fluttering around Mikleo as he released into Mikleo’s stroking hand. Mikleo was able to keep enough sense long enough to enjoy the feeling for a moment longer, before he followed Sorey over the edge in turn.

With a rumble of thunder, the summer heat outside broke into a heavy rain shower. The whisper of the water outside cooled Mikleo’s nerves as he came down from his high, letting the lingering electricity dissipate from his limbs. Sorey nestled into his arms, clearly only moments away from sleep; a blissful expression on his sweet face. Mikleo smiled and pressed another kiss to his forehead. Before he could let Sorey rest, there was the matter of cleaning up. He disengaged himself from Sorey with effort (and with a lot of whining from Sorey’s end), and walked over to the faucet and basin to gather some cleanup supplies.

Turning around, Mikleo paused. Sorey was staring at Mikleo, and appeared to be torn between guilt and trying not to laugh. Mikleo frowned and caught a glimpse of himself out of the corner of his eye in his bedroom mirror – Sorey’s electricity had made his hair go wild, and it was standing on end as if Mikleo had been struck directly by a bolt of lightning. Mikleo’s face was a picture of offense and disgust.

“You…”

“I think you look nice, Mikleo,” Sorey managed to say with a marginally straight face, before bursting into laughter.

Scowling and red-faced, Mikleo threw the wet washcloth at Sorey’s face and stormed over to his dresser to snatch up his hairbrush. The summer humidity was bad enough for keeping his locks under control. In retrospect, perhaps he should have expected this after sleeping with a thunder god.

“So…” Sorey scooted closer to him as he returned to bed, tucking himself into Mikleo’s arms. “Um. Did that help?”

Mikleo stroked that golden head, smiling, and accepted Sorey’s tight embrace. “Yes. Thank you, Sorey.”

They curled around each other, listening to the rain, idly stroking each other as they drifted off. Mikleo had drank too much; of course that prompted all of this, and they would never have to talk about it in the morning, or ever again, if Sorey didn’t want to. But for now, they could enjoy each other’s company, each other’s proximity, and bask in the easy familiarity of sleeping curled around each other on a rainy summer night.

 

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	6. Chapter 5: The Truth in One's Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heart to heart, and a meeting with the in-laws.

\--

 

Mikleo had been in enough relationships at this point to understand that sex complicated things. Mikleo was also old enough to understand that sexual encounters spurred on by the influence of drink rarely had good results the next morning. Sex was associated with certain…expectations, and those expectations were something that Mikleo had never been prepared to measure up to. Or willing to measure up to. He’d been called a heartbreaker for it; a heartbreaker, heartless, cruel, a scoundrel, and countless other names ranging wildly in politeness. And perhaps they were right. He knew full well what those girls were looking for, and…engaged with them regardless.

These past few years, he had generally avoided sex, but…

Mikleo had been drunk, that night. And he had slept with Sorey. He remembered every moment, every sound, every electric touch. He remembered Sorey’s blissful face, and his tightness and warmth. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget, no matter how long he lived.

But that was just the thing. It had been weeks, and Sorey hadn’t said a word to him about it since.

Sorey was, to the untrained eye, his ordinary, carefree self. He trotted around the town with his tongue out and tail up, making his rounds to the butcher, the grocery store, the bakery. He sunned himself on the temple steps, and moved underneath the household awnings or garden trees to nap through the heat of midday. He greeted Mikleo warmly when he returned from appointments, and accepted a pat to the head and a brief ruffling of his feathered fur before he excused himself to Maotelus’ chambers. He was in there so often, now – more often even than the high priests. He was often there instead of waiting for Mikleo outside the café after his dates (and of course he still had to deal with his mother’s matchmaking – how could he explain otherwise? “Sorry, mom, I fucked the dog and caught an existential crisis in the process.”). He was there instead of accompanying Mikleo on walks to and from appointments, or on hikes to their special place in the forest. He was there instead of staring hopefully at Mikleo at night, pleading to be let up onto the bed in dog form, so Mikleo could cuddle and pet him more easily while he read to him aloud. Mikleo felt unbalanced without Sorey at his side; like he was missing a limb. Or missing half of his heart.

Perhaps this was his just reward for devouring the hearts of the town’s maidens all the years: to have his own heart savaged and devoured by a terrible beast of the heavens. A beast in the form of his greatest fear, transforming into a boy with a smile that had captivated him since the very first day he had seen it. Such as he was a professional in his field, he could hardly call it a surprise. It was simply karmic consequence, just as logical and unavoidable as the malevolence that burrowed into the earth, that rooted and cracked foundations, that splintered men’s hearts.

“Ah, young master…I believe you, um, missed a spot. Again.”

Dazed, Mikleo blinked at where the temple attendant was pointing. Malevolence still curled and coiled there, at the corners of the household’s fireplace; like smoldering coals. He grit his teeth and began to chant the purifying sutra once more. His scattered thoughts had taken their toll on his work with the temple – they’d started to receive complaints from households that Mikleo had visited; complaints of half-done work, of late or forgotten appointments. With dying crops and malevolence creeping in every corner, this was no time for shoddy work. It was such that he was now assigned an attendant to look after him on appointments – as if he was a novice, or an ill-behaved toddler unable to keep his attention on a task. But, with the facts there in front of him, Mikleo couldn’t exactly argue that he didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. It was simply insult to injury. Sorey had abandoned his side, and he couldn’t even focus on work to distract himself. He could barely focus on his studies, and even a simple walk in the forest threatened to crush him with loneliness.

Without Sorey, without his work, without his studies, without his exploration, Mikleo was left with very little to occupy himself. He went along on the dates Muse arranged for him without complaint. After all, it was either these half-hearted dates, or sitting and staring at the walls. Though he doubted it was much more entertaining than that for the hapless girls that had to endure him.

“Mikleo.”

Mikleo stopped at the top of the temple steps, and looked at his mother with tired, expectant eyes.

_Yes, I’m done with the appointment. Yes, my keeper made sure that I washed behind the house’ s ears. Let’s not bother with the pleasantries; just point me to the next girl you want me to disappoint._

Mikleo said none of this.

“Yes, mother?” Mikleo said instead.

Though persistent and stubborn, Muse was not so selfish to not have seen the change in her son these past few weeks. Her expression was pained as she looked over her son, at his tired face, at his defeated posture, at the empty place at his side.

“You…have a visitor. She’s in the guest parlor.”

Mikleo nodded absently, and trudged in the direction of the family household. He felt his mother’s hand on his arm, stopping him. He stared at it, not comprehending.

“Mikleo…” Muse paused, and seemed to be trying to grasp for words. She settled on grasping at his robes even tighter. “Please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Mikleo forced a charming smile. “Nothing at all. I’m just going to wash up and change for my date.”

“She’s not – I never said she was a date.”

Mikleo shrugged. “Ah. I just assumed. I will go greet our guest.”

Muse covered her face with her sleeve, masking her expression. She wordlessly guided Mikleo to the main temple hall, to the guest parlor. She slid open the door, and announced their arrival.

“Alisha Diphda, fifth daughter of the Diphda family. Welcome to Camlann, seat of the Lord Maotelus, god of this land.”

Alisha bowed low, pressing her forehead to the floor mats.

“Thank you, house of Rulay, for welcoming me on such short notice. I am humbled by your gracious nature, just as I am humbled by being permitted on such sacred grounds.”

Mikleo couldn’t help but smile. While his and Alisha’s “relationship” had gone nowhere due to certain – irreconcilable differences, they still frequently wrote each other. Mikleo told her of his uncle’s latest findings, and Alisha sent news from the city – specifically, carefully-coded updates on the progress of her father’s terrible initiative. Which was, unfortunately, gaining traction. In her last letter, Alisha had sworn to Mikleo that she would appeal to her father once more, to beg him to stop this blasphemy and to think of the best interests of his citizens. Mikleo had little hope that this tactic would work, as she had tried it many times in the past. But the real question was, why was she here now?

As Mikleo showed Alisha around the temple gardens, he asked her just that. Alisha stared at her feet as they walked, but her posture was still stiff, resolute with purpose.

“My father…he is consumed by greed. He cannot be swayed by me, or by the people he is sworn to serve. So, I came here, to plead for the intervention of the highest of the heavenly powers…”

“You came here, to see if the gods would reach into his chest and forcibly reorient his heart?” Mikleo asked, frankly. “I’m afraid they don’t work like that.”

The gods could control the weather, and make flowers burst from barren dust. They could create and destroy. But changing the course of human hearts was not within their purview. If it was, malevolence wouldn’t exist, and Mikleo would be out of a job cleaning it up. Humanity’s free will, it seemed, was quite difficult to keep a lid on; for better or for worse. Having known his fair share of gods, Mikleo was of the opinion that it was for the best that the gods did not have that kind of measure of control. Mikleo had heard legends of only one god with such an ability; an evil, terrible god that Maotelus had fought and defeated thousands of years ago for the salvation of humanity. The gods could be flawed, the gods could make mistakes, the gods could be wrong, the gods could be fooled. (Like the time Mikleo had to give Sorey medicine after he ate a plant he shouldn’t have – Mikleo had wrapped the medicine in a bit of cheese and Sorey had been none the wiser.)

Alisha’s shoulders slumped. “…she told me the same thing, you know. My love, my flower. But I came anyway. I had hoped for a miracle, of some sort.”

And there was the exact issue. In his normal state, this sort of…intrusion would be a laughable concept. With a twitch of his tail, Maotelus would send any interlopers flying off the mountain in a gust of holy wind, would break and bend their pickaxes and shovels and cause their handles to bloom wildflowers. But Maotelus was weak, and sick, and growing moreso by the day. The temple’s high priests suspected, but they lacked the sight that those in Mikleo’s family possessed to behold the true form of the highest gods. They could not see how small Maotelus had become – from a dragon the size of a draft horse, to barely bigger than Sorey in his canine form – nor could they hear the weakness in his voice when he was even awake and lucid enough to respond. They still didn’t know what was causing his sickness, let alone how to go about fixing it. Maotelus was in no state to grant miracles. Maotelus was in no state to protect Camlann or the holy mountains from the intrusion of those with ill intent. Maotelus was barely in a state where he could stay awake for longer than a few hours.

“I suppose you don’t plan on leaving until you’ve been permitted to pray to Maotelus?” Mikleo said.

Alisha nodded earnestly. She opened her bag, and pulled out a length of red braided rope.

“I had thought to tie myself upright to a temple pillar with this blessed rope, and fast for three days and nights to prove the strength of my resolve to Lord Maotelus.”

“…What?” Mikleo asked, baffled. “Why would – please, no, don’t demonstrate.”

Alisha stopped looping the rope around her wrists.

“Please, just follow me,” Mikleo said. “Maotelus is – I’ll announce you, and confirm that he’s free to grant you an audience today. If he is, I’ll call some of the female temple attendants to help you through the purifying ritual before you go into the prayer room. If he’s not, we’ll have you stay in the guest housing until tomorrow. No tying or standing or fasting.”

“…oh,” Alisha said, apparently a little disappointed. She slowly slipped the rope back into her bag. “…yes, thank you.”

Alas, Maotelus was not accepting guests when Mikleo went to check on him. He was informed of this by Maotelus’ new best friend, Sorey. Mikleo tried to push down the jealousy that gripped his heart at the sight of Sorey slipping out of his and Maotelus’ clubhouse. Mikleo hoped he was comfortable, sleeping in there instead of in Mikleo’s own room. But he doubted Maotelus was better at petting than Mikleo was. Mikleo took consolation in this fact.

“Sorry. We went out for a walk today and Maotelus is pretty exhausted,” Sorey explained.

This wasn’t exactly unusual, and wasn’t necessarily a cause for alarm. When Maotelus was less ill, he would often go out for walks around the temple, or through town – unseen to most human eyes, observing the humans he protected. Perhaps this excursion today was a sign that Maotelus was feeling better, and was looking to get back into his old habits.

Mikleo turned and headed back down the steps to where Alisha stood waiting, and wistfully eyeing a tempting-looking temple pillar. Mikleo stepped in front of her field of vision to interrupt any further ideas.

“Maotelus cannot grant you an audience right now, but please, allow me to show you to the guest house. We would be happy to host you for the evening.”

It was no trouble to offer, but getting things arranged proved to be something a bit complicated. Muse was not only happy to see Mikleo showing genuine interest and happiness with a lady by his side, but she was also clearly relieved that Mikleo’s mood for the past few weeks had lifted some. She threw herself into her duties as the lady of the household, and set about receiving Alisha as her position as a mayor’s daughter required. There were attendants to direct to prepare rooms, there were cooks to instruct on meal planning, there were star charts to be consulted on whether this was an auspicious day to meet one’s future spouse. By the time Alisha retired to her room and Mikleo escaped the house, the sun was beginning to set. Mikleo breathed in the early-evening air, and stretched his arms above his head.

“The attendants were all gossiping, you know. About you and Alisha.”

Mikleo’s heart skipped at that voice. He turned to its source, lips quirked into a rueful smile.

“I’m sorry that I’ll have to disappoint them again. I hope they’re used to it by now.”

There was a stone bench nearby, and Mikleo sat on in; gesturing for Sorey to join him. Sorey walked over, hopped up, and settled his muzzle on Mikleo’s lap – his “I’m ready to be petted now” signal. Mikleo felt a weight lift off his soul, at being the target of that signal once more. Sorey’s feathers were so soft, and they glittered in the day’s waning light. Sorey whuffed out a sigh as Mikleo carded his fingers through his fur.

Twilight colors bled through the sky as the sun sank below the horizon. They stayed like that, like they always had been, like Mikleo hoped they always would remain. Mikleo was content to let this beast continue to gnaw at his heart, as long as the doing kept him near. He was willing to accept it, to keep Sorey by his side, forever and always, until he was old and gray and—

“Do you think they’d say the same things about us, if I looked human?”

Mikleo’s hand grew heavy, and his mouth dry. It was indirect, but he wasn’t naïve. He knew exactly what Sorey meant. This was maybe the closest to acknowledging that night that they’d gotten. But…it wasn’t really just that night that prompted Sorey’s question, was it?

There was something there, between them. Something that they’d been dancing around for years. It was there in every touch, every glance. Sorey’s absence from his life these past few weeks had brought Mikleo’s feelings into sharp relief. How dearly he relied on Sorey’s smile and simple presence to make his days bright, to share his most idle thoughts and deepest dreams with. How many times had he turned to his side to ask Sorey a question, to hear his thoughts, and sulked at being thwarted?

These past few weeks had been far too long for him to continue to play coy.

“I think,” Mikleo said, in a soft, low voice. “That my mother would have insisted on me making you an honest dog by now.”

Sorey’s eyes slid shut, and he pressed his cold nose against Mikleo’s palm briefly.

“Come with me to the ruins?” Sorey whispered.

Mikleo would have followed him to the ends of the earth. As it was, though, it wasn’t a long walk, and there was still some daylight to guide them through the forest. Mikleo nodded and waited for Sorey to jump down before they set off towards the forest.

 

\--

 

“I’m sorry, you know. About that storm.”

“Sorey. How many years ago was that, now? And you’ve apologized to me how many times?”

They conquered the last steps leading up to the temple; stumbling some with only the starlight and Mikleo’s hiking flashlight to guide them. Thanks to the dedicated care of Mikleo and his uncle, the Mabinogio Temple was still looking pretty good for its age – it was exactly the same as it had been on that day fifteen years ago, when Mikleo had locked eyes with Sorey, underneath the watchful gaze of ancient stone figures. Sorey was always eager to help, as well; or to help as much as he could in dog form, when Michael was around to be concerned about. He was more pleased than anyone, regarding the success of their restoration and upkeep – how happy his grandfather would be that his old temple was still so loved!

For Mikleo, though, it wasn’t just a matter of honoring the heavens, or of preserving an important part of history. The weathered gray stone and winding vines of the temple’s halls were as familiar to Mikleo as the walls of his own home in Camlann. It was a place of refuge from his mother’s expectations. It was a place that seemed to embody the very spirit of adventure that he longed to pursue. And it was the place where he’d first met Sorey.

“Still,” Sorey said mournfully. “I should have been more in control of myself. I could’ve wound up really hurting you or your uncle.”

Sorey’s mood could affect the local weather; a fact which unfortunately made Sorey bottle up things more than he should. Mikleo had known for quite some time that Sorey had brought in the storm that had driven him and his uncle into the temple for shelter that fateful night (and Sorey had apologized for it many, many times since), but had never been able to wheedle from Sorey what sort of turmoil and heartache had caused his powers to stir up such a terrible downpour. Perhaps, as they had come here in the spirit of honesty, he would finally be able to find out.

“Uncle Michael would have been fine, even if you washed him down the mountainside,” Mikleo assured him. “He’s always managed to get out of trouble in one piece.”

Sorey fell silent at that.

“…I suppose,” he finally managed.

There was a little spot in the temple that they had made their own: a small side room, mostly intact, with a small window that overlooked the river that fed their waterfall. The rush of the tumbling water was clear even over the sounds of the forest, and was quite pleasant to fall asleep to. Mikleo flung the waterproof cover off the heavy trunk that sat in the corner, and cracked it open to take out some blankets out. It wouldn’t do to have this discussion while sitting on the hard floor, after all.

Mikleo turned, arms full, and was only a bit surprised at the pair of arms reaching out to collect the blankets from him. What he was surprised by, however, was Sorey dropping them on the floor, and leaning in to situate himself in Mikleo’s arms in their place. Sorey nestled against Mikleo’s chest, and wrapped his arms around him so tightly that Mikleo could scarcely breathe. Mikleo closed his eyes, buried his nose in Sorey’s golden hair, and relished the feeling. He was so focused on listening to Sorey’s ragged breaths that he didn’t hear the fall of rain outside until the pitter-patter had turned into a steady rush, and thunder rumbled through the humid night air.

“Sorey,” Mikleo whispered. He held Sorey close, and eased them to the floor; managing to mostly get them seated onto the fallen blankets. Sorey wouldn’t loosen his grip on him for a moment, and that was something Mikleo was prepared to live with for – well, quite a long time. “Tell me what’s wrong. If it’s something I did, or – or if it’s about that night a few weeks ago, please, just—”

“When you first found me here, I was so, so lonely,” Sorey finally said into Mikleo’s chest. “I’d been travelling alone for so long, and I thought I was fine with that, but my heart understood how I really felt, and brought in the storm. I don’t think I even really knew how much I was hurting until I met you. I was so happy when I got to live with you, and be by your side…”

Sorey’s voice choked off at the end, and Mikleo began to gently rock them back and forth. He pressed his lips to Sorey’s hair, to the crown of his head, over and over.

“I’m happy too, Sorey,” Mikleo assured him. “I always want you with me—”

Sorey shook his head, fiercely, and clutched his fingers into the fabric of Mikleo’s shirt.

“I’m a coward, that’s why I’m lonely,” he sobbed. “Humans have such short lives, and they – they grow and live and forget and die, and soon it’s like the world never knew them at all, and you’re the only one who can remember, and it hurts so much and there’s no one who understands. I was too scared to get close to anyone, and then I met you, and…and you’re grown up now, and soon you’ll find someone to marry and start a family with, and I’ll…I’ll be… I’ll just be there, always, watching you until they lower you onto a funeral pyre. And I’ll always remember you, I always will, and it’ll always _hurt_ …”

The rain poured outside, and the sky rumbled its sympathies. Mikleo’s own heart was breaking, and it was all he could do to hold Sorey close while he wept into his chest.

“What’s all this about me finding someone and starting a family with them?” Mikleo asked. He stroked his fingers through Sorey’s hair, trying to smooth it away from his reddened face. “You sound awfully sure. More to the point, you’re starting to sound like my mother.”

Sorey allowed Mikleo to shift them, to place Sorey in his lap, and cradle his red cheeks and swollen face between his palms. Sorey nuzzled into the touch helplessly, desperate for contact.

“Humans are…they need that kind of thing…” Sorey managed to get out, though the words were punctuated by hiccups.

Mikleo leaned in, and let his lips brush Sorey’s ear as he spoke.

“What makes you so sure that I haven’t already found someone?”

Sorey shut his eyes, and pressed his nose against Mikleo’s palm; just as he had earlier that evening.

“I can’t be by your side like this,” Sorey murmured.

Mikleo laced their fingers together, then squeezed. He brought Sorey’s knuckles in, and pressed his lips to them; staring at Sorey until he finally met his gaze.

“A beautiful, brilliant young god, being courted by the eldest son of the house of Rulay, of the temple at Camlann,” Mikleo said. “I would consider that a most auspicious match indeed. A match made in heaven, even.”

Sorey laughed a little too loud at that not-particularly-funny joke. (Though Mikleo was sure it would have left Zaveid’s wife Lailah on the floor of the bar in stitches for a solid five minutes.) Still, it healed Mikleo’s heart some to hear his laughter again.

“Everyone knows me as a dog, though,” Sorey said.

“That sounds like something we could change in around five minutes.”

Sorey’s eyes were so bright and hopeful, and Mikleo couldn’t help but stroke his thumb over the curve of his cheek, along the edge of that defined jaw. Brilliant and beautiful, with an electric presence that made his heart skip a beat. Sometimes literally.

“Do you mean it?” Sorey asked. “I…I always thought you didn’t want that.”

It was Mikleo that had suggested the walk-around-as-a-dog-all-the-time arrangement. It was partially for Sorey’s own convenience – if it was known that Sorey was a god, he would never be able to experience the freedom that he currently enjoyed. He wouldn’t be able to sprawl gracelessly, hind legs spread, napping in a sunbeam for hours; he wouldn’t be able to trot down the main street uninterrupted, or be able to drop everything and race off with Mikleo to their waterfall. He’d be enshrined and worshipped at the temple, like Maotelus; fulfilling people’s petty wishes. And Sorey had agreed, and thanked him for always looking out for him so selflessly.

But, really, that wasn’t all there was to it.

“I always wanted to keep you all to myself.” Mikleo drew Sorey in close, beckoning him to rest his head on his shoulder, and resting his hand on Sorey’s leg as he spoke. “Mom was always busy with the temple. Dad died before I ever knew him. Uncle Michael was never around. It was just me, all the time, until it wasn’t – until I found someone magical and wondrous. You loved books, you loved traveling, you were _gorgeous_ – it seemed like you were almost made just for me. And I wanted to keep you a secret, as if…as if someone would come along and steal you away from me at any moment.”

Sorey snorted. “As if they could. I’d never be stolen from you that easily, Mikleo.”

“I think plenty of people would try, if they saw you walking down the street, looking the way you do. I suppose I’m the jealous type.”

Sorey gave a mischievous little smile, and nuzzled against Mikleo’s shoulder. His feathered earrings tickled Mikleo’s skin, and made him shiver. As if that was the only reason. Sorey was deliciously warm and heavy on his lap, and his movements seemed to be calculated precisely to drive Mikleo insane.

“I’m jealous too,” Sorey whispered. “Of all those girls who got to date you, who got to be seen with you walking down the streets. Who got to hold your hand whenever they wanted, and kiss you.”

Sorey’s hands had found their way into Mikleo’s hair, and he was lazily twirling a lock of hair around his finger as he spoke. Mikleo wondered if Sorey knew what he was doing to him.

“Not all of them got to the kissing,” Mikleo managed to say. “Or the handholding.”

Fewer still had managed to get Mikleo in bed with them, and the only one who had ever managed to shake Mikleo’s heart was seated in his lap right now. That smile of Sorey’s was simply too cute. And a bit too devious, perhaps. Sorey lifted the lock of hair he’d been playing with to his lips.

“Some of them managed. And then there were those times I overheard you…I was so jealous. Ah, but your hair’s so pretty, Mikleo...”

Said as if it wasn’t _Sorey’s_ fault that Mikleo had grown it out this long, thanks to comments like those. Mikleo leaned forward, supporting Sorey’s weight with a gentle hand, until they were lying on the blankets. Mikleo’s lips were perilously close to Sorey’s; so close that he could feel his stuttering damp breath.

 

 

“Mikleo. I…how drunk were you really, that night?”

“Barely,” Mikleo said. “And I’m certainly not drunk now. And you weren’t really joking then, were you?”

“Not at all. Not at all,” Sorey moaned. “Mikleo…”

Mikleo would have liked to have taken this a bit slower than their last encounter. Slower, more graceful; taking the time to worship Sorey as he so deserved. But between the press of Sorey’s greedy mouth and tongue, and the warmth of his skin, it was all Mikleo could manage to keep from coming all over Sorey’s stomach as they rubbed against each other; chest-to-chest, skin-on-skin. The roiling storm outside made the air heavy with humidity, made their bodies stick and slide so perfectly.

“I wonder what made this storm roll in so suddenly,” Mikleo wondered aloud. He was idly kissing a line down Sorey’s front, and paused just below that perfect navel to nuzzle his lips against the fine golden hair there. “Maybe there’s a god that’s getting a bit too worked up.”

Sorey moaned loud and long, and lifted his hips insistently; only to be held fast by Mikleo’s grip on his thighs.

“You’re the one who made me all…agitated…” he whined. “Mikleo, please, just…I want your mouth…”

Normally, Mikleo wasn’t so easily broken by Sorey’s whining, no matter how cute it was. However, the…situation at hand made it very difficult for him to want to deny Sorey anything. When Mikleo wrapped his lips around the head of Sorey’s cock, Sorey’s green eyes went all unfocused, and he let his head fall back onto the blankets with a helpless noise, and then it was nothing but _Mikleo, Mikleo_ and _please_. It was such sweet music, the sounds of which Mikleo would never tire of.

If Mikleo had known _this_ would happen, he might have had the foresight to bring some oil with them, so he could give in to Sorey’s increasingly insistent demands to be fucked. For a god that hadn’t ever stayed in one place long enough to establish a worship-base, Sorey was proving to be very demanding in bed – and unfortunately, Mikleo could never manage to say no to him for long.

_Put it in, Mikleo, inside me_.

Mikleo’s tenuous grasp on his self-control broke, and he drew off Sorey’s cock with a lewd slurp, only to kiss his way down lower, lower, to swirl his tongue and lick Sorey open. Sorey loudly voiced his approval, and pressed his hips down so cutely on Mikleo’s tongue and fingers that Mikleo felt himself steadily going insane.

“I’m ready, Mikleo, come on, please…”

Mikleo slid another finger in, just to watch Sorey’s jaw fall open and his hips buck down instinctively.

“I suppose you are.” Mikleo’s voice was so low that he could barely recognize himself. “You took my fingers so nicely, Sorey…”

“I want more…” Sorey moaned. “Please.”

“More what.”

“ _Please_ …”

Mikleo slid his fingers out, and traced the line of Sorey’s thigh and hip, deliberately, maddeningly slowly. He crawled up Sorey’s body, and leaned over him again, pressing his mouth to Sorey’s ear.

“Do you want my cock in you? Is that it?”

Sorey grabbed at Mikleo’s shoulders, hauling him in and wrapping his legs tightly around his waist. Honestly, he was just too easy to tease. And so, so cute.

He was also just as warm and tight and perfect inside as Mikleo remembered. Mikleo let his eyes slip shut for just a moment, letting himself drown in the sensation of being surrounded by Sorey – Sorey’s arms around him, Sorey’s body squeezing on him, the sound of Sorey’s pants and moans and the storm outside the only thing Mikleo could hear.

“Mikleo, look at me, look at me…”

That was an order Mikleo was happy to obey. He gazed into Sorey’s beautiful eyes as asked, relishing in the blissed-out expression on his face; knowing that it was _him_ and him alone that put it there. Sorey hiccupped again, and gave a rich, full-body shudder.

“I love you…”

Mikleo was hardly a blushing virgin. He’d slept with people before. But this, this was enough to make Mikleo feel something he’d never felt before…or perhaps he’d felt it for years, and just ignored it. He understood it now, and would never let it go again.

“I love you too, Sorey. Now and always.”

 

\--

 

Even after the storm broke, they stayed the night at the ruins. It was simply too dark to make it back safely, and the trail was simply too soaked, and the company was simply too sublime. As they made their way up the temple steps, exhausted and muddy and still riding the high from the night before (and the morning right before they left), Mikleo took a moment to compose himself, and to cast an adoring look at the golden dog trotting beside him. He knew he’d have to face his mother’s wrath; for disappearing into the woods in the middle of the night when they were entertaining guests, for coming back filthy and rumpled. But it was a lecture he was willing to…

“Hello, Mikleo! Were you enjoying a morning hike? The storm last night was quite a surprise.”

They had reached the top of the temple steps, and were greeted by the sight of Alisha, who had made good on her determination to tie herself to a temple pillar as a show of devotion. She had apparently also done so in the middle of the night, and was completely soaked from the rain. Mikleo was not really in the mood for this, and was willing to leave her to it, but it seemed a bit rude to leave her…hanging, as it were.

“Yes, it was. Can I fetch you a towel? Or something to read?”

Alisha shook her head. Her soaked hair splatted to her cheeks with the motion. “No, thank you. I must focus my concentration on praying to the heavens.”

“I see. Good luck, then.”

Maybe he could try to call Rose if she was in one of her offices today. Surely Alisha’s “flower” could convince her to talk to the gods like a normal human being, or at least change into some dry clothes before she caught pneumonia.

They reached the main house, and were not even at the door before Muse burst out, flustered and red-faced.

“Where _were_ you? You weren’t at dinner with our guest and – and then that awful storm blew in and –”

“Sorey and I went to the Mabinogio Temple to talk some things out,” Mikleo said mildly. “I’m sorry for not telling an attendant where we went, though.”

Muse grabbed Mikleo by the sleeve and dragged him inside, and Mikleo could hear the frantic tapping of Sorey’s feet as he followed after them. She shut the door behind them, and shoved Mikleo towards his room.

“Go. Wash and get changed. You’ll be taking Alisha on a tour of the town, and I’ve made arrangements for a date at the café – I’m sure you’ll have an easier time talking her down from that pillar when you don’t look and smell like a wild beast.”

Mikleo stood in place, unmoved and unmoving. He regarded his mother with a look of calm, unshakeable conviction.

“No. I won’t be going on a date with Alisha. Or with anyone else you try to choose for me.”

There was no anger, there was no desperate pleading, there was no room for argument. It was simply a statement of fact. The confidence in his voice seemed to make Muse falter, if only for a moment, before she collected herself and pressed forward again.

“This is not the time, Mikleo. Alisha came all this way just to see you, and I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of how good a match she is.”

“Alisha came here to pray to Maotelus,” Mikleo said, evenly. “Like so many pilgrims before her. And for that matter, she already has someone in her heart. As do I.”

Mikleo gestured to Sorey, who was sitting politely at the door, trying his best to not get his muddy pawprints on the floor. Sorey startled at Mikleo’s statement, and stared at him with soulful eyes, and the tiniest of tongue bleps. Muse sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Yes, yes, we all know how much you love Sorey,” she said wearily. “And you still need to find a good match and settle down.”

Mikleo marched to the door, picked up Sorey, and carried him over the threshold of the house like a groom carrying his bride. Sorey let out a surprised yelp, and flailed out his limbs, smearing his muddy paws across Mikleo’s clothes and face. Soaked and filthy and rumpled, Mikleo presented Sorey to Muse, his expression one of steely determination.

“This is my match. My one and only. The one I love. Sorey, grandchild of the venerable Lord Zenrus, of the temple at Mabinogio.”

Muse stared at Mikleo, dumbfounded, then slowly shifted her gaze to stare Sorey in the eyes. She was clearly not convinced.

Mikleo took Sorey’s paw in his hand, gently flopping it up and down.

“Sorey. It’s okay. You can tell her now.”

_And please do so before she has me committed_ , Mikleo added silently.

Sorey swallowed hard, and shyly looked up at Muse with his puppydog stare.

“…hi, mom,” Sorey quietly said, as if he was unused to speaking with anyone but Mikleo – which was surely the case. “I-I’ve been calling you that in my head for years now. I hope that’s okay.”

To her credit, Muse did not scream, or fall to the floor in a dead faint. Her expression was a picture of shock. Slowly, she appeared to regain her senses, and – with jerky movements – went to her knees on the floor, and kowtowed before Sorey.

“…p-please forgive me for my disrespect all these years, Lord Sorey,” Muse stammered. “I had suspected you were a herald of the Lord Zenrus, but never once suspected that you were his...his relation. Had I realized, I would not have imposed on your person so ungraciously for so long—”

“Please, no, you don’t have to bow. If you’re talking about chasing me down to clean my ears, please don’t be sorry,” Sorey said. He wiggled in Mikleo’s arms, and was placed down on the floor per request. “I know you’re just trying to help. It just feels – really weird.”

A familiar pulse of energy thrummed through the air, and, in a flash of light and the smell of storms, Sorey was crouching before Muse in his human form. He gently helped her to her feet, and smiled at her, his expression bright and beautiful. It was all Muse could do to look away from it, and stare at her son, clearly awaiting an explanation. Mikleo’s previous confidence evaporated, and he floundered for where to begin.

“I…I met Sorey at the Mabinogio Temple, and he followed me home, and…and I didn’t know he was a god, and I was pretty scared of him at first when I saw him I the ruins, I thought he was a wild dog and would eat me—”

“Hey,” Sorey interrupted, a little hurt.

“But he wasn’t,” Mikleo granted. “And – and he came to us at the temple, and then he showed me he could talk, and then he showed me he could turn into a human…he’s travelled all over the world, he’s taught me so much – he’s travelled so much but he stayed here in Camlann for me. I want to see the world with him, mom. I’ve been so selfish, making him pretend to be just a dog, making him stay here with me just because I was lonely…”

Dimly, Mikleo recognized the hypocrisy. They always said that children turned into their parents eventually. Mikleo sank to the floor, and bowed low.

“Please,” he said. “Even if you don’t want me to live my life away from the village, just…let me do right by Sorey. Let me help him live the life he deserves.”

After a long moment, he felt Muse’s arms slide around him, and her head rest upon his own.

“Please forgive your mother,” Muse whispered to him. “She was lonely, too.”

She helped him to his feet, and hugged him more properly. Mikleo returned the embrace with more sincerity than he’d felt in years. As Muse drew back, she rubbed her thumb over the muddy pawprint on Mikleo’s face, and smiled.

“It seems you really never needed my help in finding a good match,” she said. She bowed again to Sorey, and kept her head low. “My sincerest apologies for my rudeness.”

Sorey scratched at his head, and smiled sheepishly.

“It’s really no trouble. We didn’t really…figure it out until pretty recently.”

“Well,” Muse said. “I suppose we should continue this over breakfast. I would be very pleased to cook for you, your grace, and all the more so as a future in-law.”

Sorey visibly perked up, and Mikleo could almost see the phantom wagging of that tail of his. His heart ached with wonderful fondness, and indescribable joy.

“Sausage omelets, maybe? With some toast and jam?”

Muse laughed helplessly, and reached up on her tiptoes to pat Sorey’s head; just as she always did.

“I suppose you’ve been sampling my cooking all these years already, really.”

Before they could adjourn to the kitchen, there were footsteps on the path outside, then a knock at the door. Without waiting for an answer, the door opened to a familiar face.

“Uncle,” Mikleo said with no little surprise. He then blanched, and rushed to his side.

The smile on Muse’s face fell as she looked over her brother’s condition – bloodied and bruised, and leaning on his walking stick as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. Sorey quickly followed Mikleo’s example, and helped him support and move Michael to the nearest flat surface.

“Michael! What happened?”

Michael wasn’t in a state to fend off his sister’s fussing, nor did he object when she shouted down the hall for an attendant to bring water, cloth, medical supplies. He eyed Sorey curiously, but, similarly, was not in a state to question this mysterious guest in their family home.

“Ran into a bunch of thugs on my way home through the forest,” Michael finally explained when he had some water to wet his throat. He hissed at the pain of the wet cloth dabbing at his wounds. “They seemed to take exception to me witnessing an illegal surveying operation taking place in the holy forest, but they didn’t follow me back, don’t worry. I’d heard rumors that Hyland was making eyes at the mineral deposits in the area, but…”

Mikleo paled further. “What? How did they…where are they now?”

“Far enough from Ladylake that the local bureaucracy can play dumb about it, no doubt. Too close to the ruin complex for my comfort.”

Michael grit his teeth and dragged himself upright again, despite the protests of Mikleo and Muse. He limped to the door, step by painful step.

“I have to talk to Maotelus. They should have never been able to get that close…their tools should’ve…rotted and crumbled away the moment they put them to the soil…”

Mikleo thought they would have had more time, more time to work with Alisha, more time to let Maotelus heal, more time to plan a course of action to stop Ladylake and Hyland’s terrible ambitions. He thought of Maotelus’ tiny, weak, weary form. He thought of machines, demolishing the Mabinogio Temple’s ancient halls, filled with so many memories, too precious for words. He thought of their waterfall, dried up and dammed, the towering trees felled, the earth plundered and barren. Sacred land, history, sentimentality – it all meant so little in the face of human greed. And so did malevolence breed and creep and corrupt and destroy.

There was nothing that could be done other than plead for Maotelus’ intervention. They approached his sacred seat at the temple’s highest point, bowed, and – before they could announce themselves and request entry – Michael did away with formalities and threw open the door to the inner sanctum.

“Mao! What have you been—”

Michael gasped. Sorey rushed in after him, squirming past where he gaped in the doorway, and crouching low to the floor. Mikleo could see him in the dim candlelight of the sanctum; gently picking up a tiny, limp form, barely the size of a kitten.

Perhaps they should have all tied themselves to pillars before it came to this.

 

\--

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once someone gets the chance, can they grab Alisha a towel


	7. Chapter 6: Polestar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any intrepid adventurer needs a star to guide their path.

 

\--

 

Michael quietly crept through the temple grounds, with his newest purchase from the town bookshop tucked inside his robes. He touched the outline of it under his clothes, his skin tingling from excitement at the feel of the hardcover, and the weight of the volume. It promised many hours of entertainment and nourishment for the brain and soul, and was worth every penny spent. (Which was incidentally very lucky for Michael, as it was quite expensive.) There was just the matter of…finding a spot to enjoy it.

Grandmother didn’t approve of reading “frivolous” literature. Grandmother didn’t approve of Michael exploring the forest outside of town. Grandmother didn’t approve of Michael spending time on things that didn’t involve the temple. Grandmother didn’t approve of a lot of things, and Michael had long stopped keeping track. He just assumed anything that was of interest to him was forbidden, and would have to be enjoyed in secret.

The bookshop in town knew from a few visits by stern-faced temple staff that they should not be selling the Young Master Rulay such puerile nonsense. The bookshop in town also knew Michael as their best customer, and had enough business sense to keep a secret or two. Normally, Michael would take his newest book purchases to the Mabinogio Temple; to be devoured in an afternoon, and then carefully stored in a secret trunk, covered in a waterproof tarp – safely tucked away from the prying eyes of his grandmother and her lackeys at the temple. (He thought about bringing his little sister, sometimes, but she was really still too young to make the hike up. Maybe in a few years – in the meantime, he memorized the books and narrated them to her at her bedside at night.) But he had been looking for this book for  _ months _ . He’d pestered the bookshop owner daily, asking if they’d found a copy yet, asking how long it might take, again and again until they stuffed some of the latest science and archaeology journals into his hands to make him go away. But today, his persistence finally paid off – they’d located a copy, ordered it, and it was here. He finally had it. He simply couldn’t wait to read it – couldn’t manage the hike up to the Mabinogio Temple without spontaneously combusting. 

The temple grounds around Maotelus’ chambers were usually pretty quiet around this time of day. The high priests performed the cleansing ritual in the early morning, and presented offerings at sundown and sunset. He’d never been allowed up there – most people weren’t, except for the most senior priests – but he was a quick study, and easily found a secluded spot, hidden away from those approaching from the lone path up the hillside. As long as Michael was quick about reading, and kept an eye out, he should be able to get through at least the first quarter of the book – enough to tide him over until he could tear himself away long enough to properly enjoy it at Mabinogio. 

This was, at least, the plan. But no sooner had Michael sat down in a shady spot underneath the shrine awnings was he interrupted.

“What’s it about?”

Michael nearly jumped out of his skin, and only just managed to stop himself from making a break for it. The voice, however, was very much unlike any of the temple attendants. It was soft, young-sounding…and seemed to be projected directly inside his head. Michael squinted suspiciously at Maotelus’ shrine, at its sturdy hardwood walls and lack of windows.  

“Your book. What’s it about?”

“…semiotics in pre-Asgard Era architecture,” Michael replied.

He heard the whisper of a page turning, and he spun around to see a pale white hand idly flipping through his book.  _ His _ book. He scowled at the boy it was attached to; a boy that hadn’t been there a moment before, a boy no older than him. A boy with golden hair, dressed in dazzling white. His eyes were as green as the holy forest that surrounded the town.

“Sounds fascinating. But that’s quite a topic for someone your age,” said the boy.

“Look who’s talking,” Michael shot back. 

The boy raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t help a smile from twitching at his mouth, nor a short titter of laughter. 

“I guess you’ve got a point there. May I read with you?” asked the boy. “I’ll keep up with your pace, I promise.”

Michael seriously doubted that, even considering who he was speaking with. Michael was a very fast reader.

“…I guess,” Michael said. “As long as you keep an eye out for anyone coming. And as long as you don’t tell anyone I was here.”

The boy laughed again. It was a sound that seemed like it could make flowers bloom from dry soil.

“Of course. My lips are sealed.” 

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. However, it was a friendship that had to be kept pretty firmly under wraps – Michael was very certain that this would fall under the category of the many things his grandmother didn’t approve of, and knew that he couldn’t tell a single soul about it; not even his little sister Muse. The idea of being forbidden from seeing his dear friend (“Call me Mao,” he’d told him) was soon something Michael couldn’t bear to think of. He’d never met anyone who was so easy to talk to, or so interested in whatever he had to say. He was interested in books, and traveling the world. And…it was nice, having this special secret. Having Mao all to himself, in this way. It seemed like he was almost made just for Michael. Everyone knew Maotelus from the etchings and grand banners that decorated the temples, from the prayer books and lucky charms, as a grand white dragon. Michael had never heard anyone speak of Mao as  _ Mao _ , as the golden-haired boy who would tell Michael stories of far-flung places that Michael had only ever dreamed of seeing. The boy who would share with Michael the offerings presented to him by the priests, who always gave Michael a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.

Sometimes, it seemed as though he’d never be able to leave this tiny town. When his grandmother passed, the honor of heading the temple was set to fall on Michael’s shoulders when he came of age – his mother was of Rulay lineage, but had little in the way of spiritual potential; especially when compared to her two children. It was simply logical to pass the title to Michael. 

It almost seemed selfish of him to even consider leaving. He would be forcing Muse to take on the matter of running the temple, and leaving her behind. What’s more, he would be leaving Mao behind, without anyone there to keep him company, to share stories with him, to read with him…

“How has Muse been holding up? And little Mikleo.”

Michael shook his head and sighed. “She…she’s about as well as anyone could be, considering. I doubt Mikleo understands what’s happened – though I think he’s starting to chafe at all the extra attention and fretting.”

Muse’s husband was a good man, and it was a tragedy that Mikleo would never know him. But, though the never knowing was an ache unto itself, the knowing and loss was a far greater one. Perhaps it was a mercy. 

Mao nodded. “She’s strong. And very capable. She’ll be able to manage the temple on her own easily, I think.”

Michael gave him a look. “Is this your way of threatening to fire me?”

Mao pursed his lips and blew a puff of silver flame into Michael’s face – it was painless, and smelled thickly of warm, smoky incense. Michael’s hair fluttered back into place as the warm air dissipated.

“Perish the thought,” Mao said. “But you’re going to have to start planning that journey of yours soon.”

The very idea set Michael’s teeth on edge, and made his heart ache in his chest. 

“I can’t just dump everything on Muse and walk off,” Michael said. “Not now.”

“In a year or two, then. When you’ve had a chance to study and prepare.” 

“But—”

“You and I both know that Muse already does the lion’s share of work around here,” Mao said drily. “I’m sure she wouldn’t really mind having the title of temple head officially.”

Michael lowered his chin, hiding his expression. 

“Mikleo isn’t the only one Muse is hovering over right now. She won’t let me out of her sight, either. There’s no way she’d…she’d be up every night, fretting over where I was, whether I was safe.”

He felt Mao’s small white hand touch the back of his own. He’d never aged a day, ever since that fateful afternoon. 

“I have to admit that I understand her concerns,” Mao said. “Which is why I’ll be watching over you personally.”

Before Michael could say a word, Mao pressed his hand to his chest; over his heart. The warmth that flooded into him was – overwhelming, like the sun on a brilliant summer day. It poured into every limb, every cell, every part of his being. He could hear his heartbeat and Mao’s heartbeat and the heartbeat of the earth itself; the buzzing pulse of the land and all its creation. In that moment, everything was linked – he could feel Muse’s grief and determination, Mikleo’s innocent love, his confusion and loneliness. He could feel a lingering sorrow, and a forlorn hope; a man’s voice:  _ She’s a stronger woman than you realize. She will stand tall. But please – won’t you spend a few more years with my wife and son, to be certain they’re well? He’s still so young, and so lonely— _

“Hey, come on. I don’t want to have to call the priests up here…”

Michael’s vision swam back into focus. He clutched at the still-burning pulse in his chest, and stared at Mao, wide-eyed, waiting for an explanation. Mao breathed a sigh of relief, and, though exhaustion was plain on his face, so was an expression of satisfaction.

“I’ve shared part of my power with you,” he explained. “No matter where you go, no matter how far you travel, we’ll always be connected. I’ll always be able to protect you – you need fear no injury, no disease, no thirst or starvation. Should you travel so far that you arrive at another continent, and another god’s domain, they will sense my power in you and aid you.”

Michael crawled upright; leaning heavily on Mao, who permitted the affront to his heavenly dignity, as he always did. Finally, Michael was on his feet, and was able to breathe deeply enough to clear his head.

“Mao…you…”

Mao raised an eyebrow. “If you’re going to try and get me to go back on this, I’ll have you know that I don’t want to hear it. No takesies-backsies. I may have let you leave Camlann without a blessing a few years ago, but you’re pushing thirty, and I don’t want you breaking your hip out there.”

Helpless laughter bubbled out of Michael’s chest, and he sank to his knees heavily to bundle Mao into a tight hug. Mao returned the embrace, with vigor.

“Always connected, huh?” Michael asked. “So I can argue with you about journals even from a thousand miles away?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Mao replied.

 

\--

 

And so, Michael stayed a few more years in town to put the temple and family affairs in order before setting off on his journey. Muse worried, as was her way, but – true to form – she stood tall and determined, managing the temple with ease and brilliance. Mikleo devoured tales of his uncle’s travels, and soon, his kind heart and inquisitive nature earned him a lifelong friend and companion. This is a story you surely already know.

This brings us to the matter of Maotelus and his condition.

A god of the land must extend their power to bless their domain – it is a sleepless, eternal affair, and a constant drain on one’s energy; even one as mighty as a god. Without this protection, the land and all its inhabitants would fall to the rot of malevolence, to the cruel whims of the weather and humanity’s carelessness. This godly power is regained through human worship, and through the tireless efforts of the temple staff – every bit of malevolence attended to by the priests and attendants was a tiny bit of the load off a god’s back. 

The temple at Camlann was well-managed, and its staff tireless. The people of Camlann were faithful and dutiful. By all means, Maotelus should have remained in good health for many years. But his generous gift to Michael came with a cost that he did not anticipate.

Expending so much power at once – essentially creating a walking domain, and one that indeed walked very, very far; over hill and dale and far away – sent Maotelus into a deficit of health that he could not ever quite manage to climb out of. Day by day, year by year, the deficit and its burden grew heavier and heavier. Maotelus in his godly form, once a grand white dragon the size of the temple itself, shrank smaller and smaller. There were few people to comment on it; few people who came calling, and fewer still who spoke to him with such familiarity and care as Michael had. He suffered quietly, and unnoticed.

Maotelus could sleep for a little while – a short nap, five or ten years, perhaps – to regain his strength and be well once more. But without his full attention, the land would waste away…and he could sense a foul air from Ladylake, the scent of greed and corruption growing ever stronger. He would have to remain awake, and vigilant; keeping one eye on that city and one eye on the town, and an eye on the mountains and surrounding lands, and an eye on Michael as well, and an eye on Muse and Mikleo, to keep his promise, and…

He could also just summon Michael back to Camlann, revoke his blessing, and re-absorb his power. It was certainly an idea that crossed Mao’s mind, as things grew dire – his duty was to the land and its people, not one man. Even so, Mao could never quite bring himself to it. What if such a thing wound up hurting Michael, or even killing him? Yanking godly power from a mortal’s chest was surely not without its consequences. He did not breathe a word of it, or of any of his struggles, to Michael when he came by yearly to visit.

If this course of events was allowed to continue, he would surely die, and the land along with him. Maotelus was at a loss. He was backed into a corner, with no one to turn to.

That is, until that young, wandering dog god came to town…

 

\--

 

“…we became pretty good friends over the years, and after a while, he asked me a favor,” Sorey continued to explain. “He didn’t want to put any of this on me, but he had no choice. While Mao sleeps, I’ll be the land god in his place.”

There were no dramatic gasps or shouts of surprise – the three gathered humans simply continued to stare at Sorey, still trying to process his story, and what was happening. Sorey scratched at his ear, shifting his weight from foot to foot at the awkward silence. Maotelus snoozed peacefully in his arms. Sorey thought he should probably find a nice pillow or cat bed to put him on while he rested.

“I-it’s only temporary, until he’s done regaining his strength…you won’t have to change up any of the temple rituals or rewrite any of the prayers. I’m sorry I didn’t tell anyone sooner, but Mao told me not to, and…and there wasn’t anything anyone could have done…”

“No,” Michael said quietly. “There was.”

Sorey frowned, then approached Michael, with Maotelus in his arms. He waited until the man looked him in the eyes.

“Uncle Michael. You’re so precious to Mao. Take it from another god – when we grow fond of a mortal, there’s no force in heaven or earth that will keep us from trying to make them happy.”

Michael stared at Sorey, then cast a quick side-eyed look to Muse and Mikleo.

“Oh,” Mikleo said almost absently. “Uncle Michael, meet Sorey. He’s not actually a dog.”

“I really love your work,” Sorey said sincerely. “And hearing your travel stories. And your belly-rubs.”

“Ah,” Michael said quietly, rather unruffled by the revelation. He was pretty hard to fluster in general, and the whole Maotelus situation was taking up his Fluster Quota for the moment. 

Sorey held out the sleeping Maotelus, and Michael slowly, haltingly, accepted him into his arms. Maotelus continued to sleep; not stirring a bit from the pass-off.

“He didn’t want to tell you. He didn’t want to hurt you by taking back his power, or to force you to give up your dream,” Sorey explained. “He just wants to protect you and this town, and to make everyone happy. This place is his home, after all. And…it’s mine now, too. My home, and…and Mikleo’s.”

Muse seemed to snap out of the shock of the situation, and – with a determination and resolve that had kept the temple strong even through Maotelus’ secret illness – took the helm to steer them back onto a proper path. 

“I will call for an emergency meeting of the most senior staff and we will be up to perform the purification ritual shortly,” Muse stated. She bowed low to Sorey. “We will also arrange a spot for Lord Maotelus to sleep safely; a spot that suits the radiance of his station.”

Sorey supposed that meant they probably wouldn’t be okay with him sleeping on a cat bad. But, as long as Mao was safe and comfortable during his rest, Sorey was happy. 

Michael sat down in the shrine, Maotelus still in his arms – he clearly wasn’t going to be much for any further conversation. Sorey gave Mikleo a meaningful glance, and they both quietly left the shrine; leaving the two of them alone for a moment until the priests came up. And so they, too, were alone – outside the shrine, listening to the wind rustle the trees. 

The silence was…awkward. Sorey supposed that was to be expected – they’d both had a pretty busy twenty-four hours. Sorey reached out for Mikleo’s hand; his heart warming as Mikleo’s fingers curled around his own. He smiled bright and warm at him, and leaned in to press a kiss to that lovely jawline. 

“This is good, right?” Sorey asked. “Your mom won’t pressure you anymore. She knows about me, and…and us. And now that Uncle Michael is here, you can go with him whenever he’s ready to leave—”

“Sorey.” Mikleo’s voice was soft and reassuring, and horribly gentle. “I can’t leave.”

Sorey’s heart dropped into his stomach. “But…you can, your mother said she was okay with it…and, and Maotelus’ protection is still on Michael, so you’ll both be safe on the road…”

Mikleo squeezed his hand. “There’s no point if you’re not by my side. It’s fine, Sorey. I’ll stay here with you, to support you.”

Sorey understood on an intellectual level why Maotelus hadn’t called Michael back to town, even if it was for the good of his whole domain. And now, he understood it on an emotional level.

“Mikleo. Please,” Sorey begged. “It’s always been your dream, ever since we met…you have to go with your uncle, and see the world.”

“It’s  _ fine _ ,” Mikleo said, more firmly. “You’ll need support while Maotelus sleeps. Ten or fifteen years is nothing.”

“It’s something when you’ve always wanted to travel with your uncle. He’s not as young as he used to be, Mikleo – in ten or fifteen years, he’ll be in no state to travel, even with Mao’s blessing. And…what if it’s not just a few years? What if I’m not strong enough to help Mao, and you’re just waiting here, for twenty, thirty years, or…”

Sorey’s voice faltered at the very thought of it. Mikleo stroked his cheek, and trailed the touch up and back to pet his hair, until Sorey’s breathing calmed.

“Do you really think I can just leave you here, after all that’s happened?” Mikleo asked. He sounded so hurt, so confused. “After what happened last night? For god’s sake, Sorey, even without all that, you’re still my closest friend, and you think that I somehow can just…pack up and leave with a smile on my face…”

“You’ve been stuck here so long,” Sorey said mournfully. “I’ve seen how much it tears you up, how much you resented it. I can’t…I can’t stand to have you resent me…”

Mikleo’s fingers loosened around Sorey’s hand.

“You said that Maotelus told you about his predicament ages ago,” Mikleo said. “Honestly, were you just planning on letting me leave town without you this whole time? Were you ever really planning on coming with me?”

Sorey swallowed hard and grasped for Mikleo’s retreating hand. “Mikleo. I was, I swear I was.”

“It’s fine,” Mikleo repeated. “All I ever wanted was a choice, and it’s my choice now to stay. Don’t feel guilty.”

A retinue of priests was making their way up to the shrine, bearing flasks of holy water, scrolls, incense, sacred bells. Mikleo rose to his feet, and bowed deeply to Sorey.

“The priests will perform the purification ritual,” Mikleo said. “If you’ll excuse me, someone still needs to convince Alisha to untie herself.”

 

\--

 

The week passed in a blur.

There was work to be done, and every caretaker of the shrine, from the most novice attendant to the highest of priests, was on deck to handle it. The changing god – even though it was only a temporary arrangement – was utterly unprecedented, and the tension it created was palpable. Even so, Sorey seemed to be a natural at the position. With Maotelus’ lingering power as his support, amplifying his own, the dark fog of malevolence that lingered in town – lurking in corners and staining the fields, a persistent blackness that could not seem to be purified even with dozens of blessings – was finally chased away. 

On the topic of the chasing-away of persistent annoyances, the surveying team from Ladylake was also forcibly ejected from the holy mountain. But this was not due to Sorey’s power – although his domain fortified the land they sought to desecrate, it was not in Sorey’s nature to bring down anything resembling heavenly wrath. Fortunately, Alisha was more than happy to serve the purpose when informed of her countrymen’s illegal presence and nefarious designs on the mountain’s holy grounds, and their cruel and undignified treatment of her dear friend’s uncle. Steeled with purpose, and high on the feeling of being recognized by the heavens for her pillar-tying vigil, she set out into the forest with the full intent of chasing the surveyors all the way back to Ladylake on foot. 

And, fortunately, Mikleo was able to get ahold of Rose before Alisha made her dream a reality. With Rose’s assistance and support, they quickly apprehended the team and extracted a full confession of their misdeeds and Mayor Diphda’s involvement in the plot. (Mikleo knew better than to ask Rose about her information-gathering methods, if he wanted to still be able to sleep at night.) It was quick, and bloodless, for which Mikleo was thankful. He had always been concerned about keeping the land as free from unnecessary bloodshed as possible; to ensure Maotelus’ good health. But, he now had an even more personal investment.

“Don’t worry,” Rose assured him before they left. “I’ll see to it that these chumps and their boss see justice. You’ve got enough on your plate right now.”

She and Alisha were headed back to Ladylake with the captured team, accompanied by a retinue of priests – to testify against the trespassers on Camlann land. Mikleo had faith that justice would be served.

“Thank you,” Mikleo said. “You’ve done Camlann a great service, and we remain in your debt.”

Rose winked and poked Mikleo in the chest lightly. “Now, don’t say things like that to me unless you really mean it. I could think of a lot of ways you guys could repay me, but…I’ll take a while to settle on it.”

“…during our march, I beseech you to reflect on your misdeeds; not only snubbing your nose at the heavens, but also not caring a whit about the well-being of your fellow man…” Alisha went on, lecturing their captives. 

“Just make sure she doesn’t tie herself to a tree trunk in the forest on the way down,” Mikleo said wearily.

Rose sighed, but Mikleo saw the fond smile on her face, and the look in her eyes as she gazed at Alisha. 

“You don’t need to tell me.”

Another week passed, and Mikleo worked, and worked, and worked. He led teams to comb the town looking for lingering taint; inspecting everything with a fretful, obsessive eye, as if he was a new bride cleaning house for her in-laws’ first visit. Truthfully, he needed something to fill the hours – his schedule had been freed up quite considerably. No more dates to waste his time and test his patience. No more arguments. No more days out at the waterfall. No more lazy afternoons sharing snacks at the Mabinogio Temple. No more evenings in the temple garden, quietly watching the stars come out. No more late nights reading. No more hours spent picking feathers out of his bedsheets and clothes. No more sleep lost because of a dog snoring in his ear in bed. Mikleo didn’t quite know what to do with himself, anymore.

“How is Michael doing?” Sorey asked, in a small, hopeful voice. “Do you think he’ll be going back on the road soon?”

Michael was not one to malinger, and – to Muse’s great annoyance – he had been hobbling around the temple grounds in a matter of days after his encounter with the intruders on the mountain. 

“He’s almost fully recovered, and should be leaving in a few days,” Mikleo confirmed. “He’s up at the Mabinogio Temple today, doing restoration work.”

“You’ve done so much work on it over the years yourself,” Sorey said earnestly. “Does he—”

“He’s noticed,” Mikleo interrupted, curtly. “And had a few disagreements with me on some of our restoration choices.”

Sorey shifted uncomfortably at Mikleo’s tone. Or perhaps it was discomfort from the elaborate robes he had been given to wear as part of his new station. They were beautiful – the intricate embroidered swirls, the delicate feather trim, the flow of the voluminous sleeves, and the flutter of tails at the back as he walked. They were also so very unsuited to Sorey – Mikleo couldn’t count how many times Sorey had nearly tripped on the hem of the robes when he was trying to get down the stairs to greet him. And they got dirty so easily…not that Mikleo had the privilege of being the one to provide Sorey with his ritual baths, anymore. It was no longer his duty to care for Sorey, to tend to him and help him with his day-to-day needs – that was the domain of the high priests.  

He just didn’t quite know what to do with himself, anymore.

“Maybe…you could talk it out with him a little more?” Sorey offered. 

“He’ll be leaving in a few days, like I said. No one has ever managed to change Uncle Michael’s mind on an academic subject that quickly.”

“…w-well, you could always…talk it out on the road?”

“No,” Mikleo said. “Not a possibility.” 

“But—”

The sun was setting. Mikleo went to his knees and bowed deeply to Sorey, pressing his forehead to the hem of those lovely, completely unsuitable robes. 

“Thank you for taking the time to speak to me, my lord,” Mikleo murmured. “I will take my leave so you are able to retire.”

“Mikleo.” Sorey’s voice was so quiet, so defeated. “Please.”

Mikleo looked up at him from under the fall of his hair, and, without breaking eye contact, lifted the hem of Sorey’s robes to his lips to kiss. 

He could live a happy life, here, at Sorey’s feet. He would be happy, and fulfilled.

But he hoped every day that his uncle would be well enough to leave as soon as possible, without him, so the nagging longing in his chest would finally cease.

Soon, the time had come: Michael was well enough to begin his journey once more; well enough that even Muse admitted he was more than ready to strike out. There was the matter of gathering supplies for the road, and Michael requested Mikleo’s assistance in town to that end. 

“You know, your mother told me that she’s given you her blessing. I would have thought you’d have leapt at the chance to leave.”

Mikleo went quiet, and turned over the box of granola bars in his hand, as if pretending to be engrossed in its nutritional facts.

“…I would have thought that, too,” Mikleo finally admitted. “Not too long ago.”

Michael looked at him expectantly. “…well? What’s stopping you? Adventure and wonder await, and all that. You’re younger than I was when I first set out, so you’ve still got that idiocy to power you along through sleepless nights. I have to admit that it’d be a bonus having someone with youth on their side along.”

“Uncle…” Mikleo began, and trailed off. He couldn’t quite put his feelings into words.

“I’m admittedly not the most pleasant company all the time,” Michael said. “If the various archaeological and historical communities have any merit to their complaints about me. But I have a feeling that’s not why you’re hesitating.”

“How can you…” Mikleo set the box down, and leaned heavily against the shelf. “How can you just  _ leave _ him? After all he’s sacrificed for you? How can you just pack up and go, as if everything’s perfectly normal? After you’ve spent your whole life with him, after you’ve shared everything with him, after you promised to see the world  _ with _ him and now you can’t and might never be able to, and…”

Michael’s expression went soft, and he allowed Mikleo to settle himself before reaching out a hand to gently touch his shoulder – lightly, giving him space to shrug him off if needed.

“Mao gave me his blessing with the explicit direction to see the world, and fulfill my dreams,” Michael said. “He just about kicked me out the door in the process, and was so determined that I keep at it that…we are where we are now. If I gave up now and hung around here just waiting around for him, I’d never hear the end of it when he does wake up – and when he does, I’ll have stories for him, and more books under my belt, and a satisfaction that means I’ll never need to leave him again. I’ll have spent my life doing what I love, instead of torturing myself, and building up resentment. Resentment isn’t a good look on anyone, especially a priest – you’re supposed to clean up malevolence, no? Not drag it everywhere you go like you stepped in something.”

Mikleo was quiet. 

“But…”

“If I gave you a pair of hiking boots, and you never wore them – just stacked them on your shelf to make sure they never got worn out or scuffed – is that really how I wanted my gift to be used? I’m thankful for everything Mao has done for me, and this is my way of proving it.”

“This isn’t about  _ hiking boots _ ,” Mikleo said with no little disdain. 

“It isn’t,” Michael agreed. “And I know you’re smart enough to understand a metaphor when you hear one.” 

 

\--

 

“Mikleo. You have a date this afternoon.”

Now that was a phrase Mikleo had thought he’d never have to hear again. Moreover, this was hardly the time – Michael was leaving tomorrow, and on top of that, there were appointments to tend to. Mikleo raised an eyebrow at his mother.

“I know,” Muse said, holding up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I promised. But I simply couldn’t refuse – they were very insistent that they be given a chance. They’ll be waiting at the Spring Breeze. I re-assigned your appointments to other priests. Try to enjoy yourself, won’t you?  And be on your best behavior.”

Very insistent, indeed. The Spring Breeze wasn’t even open during the daytime, normally – this girl must have slipped Zaveid a tidy sum to get him to get him to deviate from his usual daytime schedule of keeping house and visiting the elementary school where Lailah taught. Whatever the case was, Mikleo was no longer on the market – which wasn’t something that had been formally announced to the town, of course, for obvious reasons. Mikleo was in a certain mood today – a mood of aching nostalgia and thwarted longing at Michael’s impending departure. He would have loved to be left alone to brood, but he would spare a few minutes to go to the bar, get a drink, and gently turn down this determined creature. Perhaps she could spread the word about his removal from the dating market, so he wouldn’t have to.

He sighed deeply as he stood in front of the bar’s door, and rolled his shoulders once before stepping inside. 

“Mikleo! Good to see you,” Zaveid greeted him warmly. “You got quite a honey waiting for you, let me just—”

He scrutinized Mikleo up and down; straightening his clothes and collar, wiping Mikleo’s face with a warm washcloth and spinning him around once before he apparently passed muster as being date-ready. Satisfied, Zaveid bowed at the waist, and gestured to a table tucked into the corner; decorated with a fine tablecloth and a vase of fresh flowers, and where Mikleo’s date was waiting for him.

“I hope you found your way here okay,” Sorey said. 

Sorey. A date, with Sorey. Mikleo could hardly hear his thoughts over his racing heart, and he stood rooted to the floor where he stood; staring at the sight before him. Sorey was dressed in a yukata that suited him just perfectly; the cut highlighting the strong line of his shoulders and broadness of his chest, the dark blue pattern setting off the sparkling gold of his hair. His movements flowed so gracefully and easily; the fabric looked like it had been tailored just for him – had his mother been plotting this all along, sewing and scheming late at night these past few weeks? Mikleo felt so horribly underdressed for the occasion. Before he could run off (or stand there staring any longer), Zaveid intervened and shoved him forward; marching him over to the table with his hands on his shoulders.

“Go on now. Be a gentleman, don’t keep him waiting.”

Mikleo sat heavily in the chair across from Sorey, and stared open-mouthed for a few moments before collecting himself enough to speak.

“I…Sorey, what is all of this…?”

Sorey sniffed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs primly and folding his hands in his lap. 

“Is this how you treat all your dates?” Sorey asked in mock-offense. “Come on. You’re supposed to ask me about myself.”

Mikleo laughed helplessly – laughed for the first time in weeks, it seemed.

“Honestly, Sorey…okay, okay.”

Mikleo stood up, bowed at the waist, and held out his hand to Sorey. Sorey gave Mikleo his hand without hesitation, and Mikleo gave it a brief squeeze before leaning in to kiss his knuckles. He gazed at Sorey from under his lashes.

“It’s a pleasure to be asked out by someone so lovely. I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

The gesture seemed to rob Sorey of that confidence he’d had just a few moments ago. Sorey squeaked and turned beet red, and cradled his kissed hand to his chest when Mikleo finally released it. “N-no. Not at all. I was just, you know, catching up on some reading…”

“Oh?” Mikleo asked. “What kind of things are you interested in reading?”

“Um. Well.”

Sorey took a moment to compose himself. Finally, he settled his dear hand in his lap, and gave Mikleo a shy smile.

“History books and travel journals are probably my personal favorites, but I secretly really love romance novels and poetry. Don’t make fun of me, okay?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mikleo assured him. “Have you ever told anyone about that except for me?”

“No…no, I thought I’d get teased for it. The place where I live has a pretty big library, but not much in that category. A few, though. I’ve read them so many times, I could probably quote them word-for-word. I always secretly hoped they’d get more.”

“I can’t imagine how anyone could ever say no to you,” Mikleo said. “I’m sure your housemates would give you anything you asked for.”

Sorey laughed and reached up to play with his feather earring. “Well, I hear ‘no’ often enough. I need it sometimes, though. My housemate looks after me, and keeps me in line.”

Sorey reached out, stroked his fingers over the back of Mikleo’s hand.

“Enough about me, though. I want to hear more about you. What do you like to do in your free time? I’ve heard that your schedule is usually pretty packed.”

“Well,” Mikleo said. “I’m interested in historical preservation. I keep the nearby temple in the mountains, and like to unwind at the waterfall that’s around there. I like cooking, when I get the chance; desserts are my specialties. I like to read, as well. Travel and history.”

“I bet your vanilla ice cream is just the best,” Sorey said dreamily. “But I’m glad you have so much that you’re passionate about. Where do you think you see yourself in five or ten years?”

Mikleo raised an eyebrow. “Sorey. Is this a date or a job interview?”

“If we’re going to work in the long-term, I need to know what your career goals are,” Sorey said. “My family would never approve of me marrying a man without good prospects.”

Family…yes, of course Sorey had family of his own. Mikleo had known from the start that Sorey was a descendant of the great lord Zenrus, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise to hear. Regardless, Mikleo couldn’t help but blanch a bit, his heart skipping at the thought of having to prove himself to heavenly in-laws. He was from a well-established family, and had a good job, and had proper manners…but was that really enough to impress a whole family of gods?

Mikleo shook off the feeling. That could wait a few years. Right now, Sorey had asked him a question.

“I see myself with the one I love,” Mikleo said. “And you?”

Sorey cupped Mikleo’s hand, and covered it with his own. 

“I want the one I love to be happy, even if him being happy means that we have to be apart for a little while,” he said. “I want him to be true to himself, and follow what he’s always dreamed of. And, since I can’t go with him right now, I want to take care of the home I share with him, to make sure that it’s even more beautiful when he comes back to me. I know he’ll come back, no matter what. And I’ll be right at the gates waiting to welcome him home.”

Mikleo couldn’t quite keep his hand from shaking. Sorey stroked his thumb over it, which only seemed to make it worse. Suddenly, Sorey was rising from his seat, rounding the table, and drawing Mikleo close to his chest, making soothing noises and stroking his hair. Mikleo tried to will the tears from his eyes before they stained Sorey’s beautiful clothes. 

“Sorey,” Mikleo sobbed. “It won’t be the same without you. It won’t be right.”

“Mikleo…” Sorey sighed. “Have you ever wondered why we can change form? To make ourselves look like humans, or like other living things?”

Mikleo stared up at Sorey with swollen, red eyes. 

“I…” he croaked out. He cleared his throat. “I, I suppose I’ve wondered, but…I thought it was just a…godly…thing.”

 

 

“I never really understood it, either,” Sorey admitted. “I mean, worship from humans and other creatures makes us strong, and helps us care for our domains. But we can live without it, especially if we don’t have any sort of domain we need to maintain – like me, when I was walking the earth. I loved watching humans, but it was always from afar. I was too afraid to get closer. And then I met a little boy who gave me his wet coat, and then I was able to take on this form, and…I understood. Taking on a human form lets us connect with humans, connect with other living creatures that we’ve bonded with, in a way that we never could otherwise. It lets us live by your side, and…and, u-um, start families, if you’re interested in that kind of thing…”

Mikleo’s mind barely had time to process the idea before Sorey continued.

“…and, that connection…it can let you live by  _ my  _ side, too. Forever, if you want it.”

If Mikleo had just heard him right, Sorey had just offered Mikleo a family, and eternity. Mikleo could scarcely believe his ears.

“You wouldn’t age, or get sick. You wouldn’t feel hunger or thirst. But…it can only be you, Mikleo. Just you, and no one else.” Sorey dropped his gaze, guilty. “Your friends and family would pass on without you. They’d go on to the next life, and you’d never see them again.”

There were tears at the edges of Sorey’s eyes, now. The sight made Mikleo’s heart fall from his chest.

“It’s just like I was afraid of, all those years. I wanted you to be by my side forever, but I could never ask that of you. It just…wasn’t right.” 

“Sorey.” Mikleo went to his knees in front of Sorey, and took his hand in his own. “Are you asking me now?”

The look on Sorey’s face was one of perfect surprise, before it crumpled into tears. Mikleo nuzzled into Sorey’s palm, pressing kisses there, murmuring gentle reassurances while Sorey wept.

“Sorey. Please, ask me.”

Sorey shook his head fiercely, his earrings jingling with the motion. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking, you don’t…you’ll see them grow old and die and you’ll have to just keep going, and there’ll be no one left who remembers them, and no one who understands…”

“I’ll have you. And you’ll have me,” Mikleo swore. “Forever.”

Sorey buried his face in his sleeve for a moment, then took a deep, shuddering breath. He lowered his arm, and his face was a mask of godly composure, with an underlying determination that brooked no argument.

“Travel with your uncle, see the world, and return to me in five years. Tell me stories, bring back gifts and treasures from your journey. After that, I’ll ask you. And you can accept, or deny. But no matter what your choice is, please remember that I’ll always be with you.” 

Mikleo bowed low, pressing his forehead to the ground before Sorey’s feet. 

“Yes, my lord. It will be as you say.”

There was still time to prepare to leave with Michael, and to explain the situation to his mother. Mikleo’s mind raced with thoughts of all that needed to be done – packing, planning, budgeting for all the romance and poetry books he’d be sending home. He rose to his feet, and gathered Sorey into his arms; hugging him tightly. Sorey returned the embrace with just as much fervor. 

“Please be safe,” Sorey whispered. “Mao’s protection will be on you both, but…”

“I will,” Mikleo assured him. “We will. Can I ask something of you, as well?”

“Of course,” Sorey said. “Anything.”

Mikleo leaned in to Sorey’s ear, and pressed a brief kiss there.

“Think of some baby names while I’m away, won’t you?”

Mikleo could feel Sorey’s blush burning against his neck when he buried his face there. 

“…o-okay.”

 

\--

 


	8. Epilogue - Canis Minoris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A star, to guide you home.

\--

 

Five years.

Five years of travel, five years of seeing the world in all its splendor. Five years, and he could do it for five more, and five more after that. There was still so much more to see, so much more to experience. He and his uncle had hardly covered one continent – the ocean’s horizon awaited, and beyond, foreign ruins and libraries, towns and cities both great and small, volcanic peaks and snowy fields. People to meet, people to learn from. And many, many books to get through.

But.

There had been five years of longing, five years of aching, five years of letters and gifts, of restless nights and equally restless dreams. His feelings remained the same, after all this time. It would take longer than a scant few years to make Mikleo forget about the other half of his heart. It would take more than miles of distance. This love would remain in his breast until the end of time, until the ends of the earth.

But…

Mikleo couldn’t help but fret about whether the feeling was still mutual.

“…and I don’t want to tie him into something that he was only interested in five years ago,” Mikleo continued to babble into his phone. “People change. Gods change. And, and maybe he’s forgotten about me, or resents me for leaving him to waste away in a temple atop a mountain when he could have been travelling too, and—”

There were crunching noises coming from the other end of the line. Almost like someone was eating potato chips directly into the receiver, heedless of Mikleo’s emotional turmoil.

“Refresh my memory,” said Rose on the other end. “When did his last letter come through?”

“Yesterday,” Mikleo said. “Rose, that’s not the point. Sorey takes too much responsibility on himself. He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t say when things are wrong. I could be forcing him into something he doesn’t want, and he would feel compelled to just go along with it…”

“So your solution is to make the decision for him, and just never come back?”

“That’s not—” Mikleo pressed his thumb into the spot between his brows and sighed. “You don’t understand.”

“I guess I don’t. But those are your options: go back to town, or don’t. And from the way that you’ve mooned over him for the past five years, it seems like a pretty dumb decision to me if you—”

Mikleo heard Alisha’s voice in the background of the call, yelling at Rose for eating chips in the bed. Then approaching footsteps. Rose made a panicked noise, and there were brief sounds of a scuffle before the sound of racing feet.

“Gotta go. Trouble in paradise,” Rose said, breathless. Mikleo heard Alisha bark out a “halt” in the distance. “I trust your judgement and wish the two of you the best of luck hope you find the answer that lies deep in your heAAAHHHHH—!”

The call dropped. Mikleo sighed, and looked to where his uncle was sleeping across from him in the train car.

The jewelry box in the breast pocket of Mikleo’s jacket seemed so intensely present; a glowing, hot coal. Painless but impossible to ignore. He idly touched it, to confirm it was still there; to confirm that it hadn’t somehow burned a hole in the fabric and launched itself off the train within the five minutes that had passed since Mikleo last checked it.

They’d be arriving soon. And he could only hope and pray that he wasn’t about to pressure Sorey into something that he didn’t truly want.

 

\--

 

“I just hope your mother hasn’t filled up my room with old temple ledgers and spare robes. I need to spend tonight getting my notes in order, not hauling out boxes...”

Michael made a face, then pressed his thumb into the spot between his brows and sighed; doubtlessly thinking deep thoughts about the writing process and the devious distractions posed by household chores. Just as Mikleo was headed home to Sorey after these five years of travel, Michael would be taking a break from his travels and staying at the temple for a while as well. Mikleo never thought he’d see the day. Ostensibly, it was to write a new novel -- though his uncle had always managed to write his others on the road in the past – but Mikleo suspected that he was doing it as a courtesy to Sorey and Maotelus. The protective domain over the two of them was surely tiring to keep up.

“I think I should probably be worried about the same thing,” Mikleo admitted. “Mom always complained about never having enough storage space. I’m sure I’ll be sleeping in a guest room tonight.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure if either of us merit use of one of the good guest rooms. Maybe Mao will let us crash with him for the evening.”

His uncle’s humor could politely be called “dry”, and impolitely called “morbid” or “blasphemous”. In any case, it was just inappropriate enough to break the tension, and give Mikleo the first laugh he’d had since boarding the train at four AM that morning, with no sleep, nothing in his stomach but train station coffee, and an engagement ring in his pocket.

They had arrived only a scant hour ago, and were walking down the streets of Camlann as the sun set, taking in the scenery that they hadn’t laid eyes on in years. The sleepy storefronts filled Mikleo with a warm nostalgia that he wouldn’t have thought possible a few years ago, when all he wanted to do was escape. There was the little cafe where he’d had date after disastrous date, there was the spot across the street where Sorey would wait for him. There was the grocery where he would buy snacks for their afternoon picnics by the waterfall, for their hikes up to the temple. There was the Spring Breeze, where he’d been told to follow his dreams by the love of his life.

And there was the temple on the hill, where Sorey had been cooped up for five years, all so Mikleo could travel and be selfish. Mikleo felt his feet turn into lead at the bottom of the temple steps.

“Mikleo,” Michael said wearily. “We have a lot of stairs to climb, and I’m very tired of being on my feet.”

“I,” Mikleo began. “What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

Michael stared at him in silence for several long moments, and then wordlessly continued to climb the steps. Mikleo made a frantic noise and followed after him, still babbling.

“He’s been stuck here. Stuck here while I see the world. He could’ve been anywhere, doing anything, and he had to be here instead, straining himself to take care of the town, to take care of us while we galivant around, and…”

They reached the top of the steps, and saw…

Nothing. No one waiting for them.

Mikleo felt himself go cold, and his racing heart from climbing the steps stuttered to a stop in his chest. Michael seemed to expect this, and continued on towards the main door to the temple’s living quarters.

“I didn’t tell Muse when we were getting in. Used to, but trains would always get delayed and she’d give me an earful when I was late. Let’s head inside and announce ourselves there.”

Mikleo swallowed, and focused on putting his feet properly on the ground. Of course they wouldn’t be up here waiting for them, with banners and doves and Sorey carried in on a palanquin, wrapped in seven silk scarves. What was he expecting? The temple had its daily duties to attend to, just as it always did. Sorey, too, had work to do. They couldn’t just sit around for them to finally trudge in, especially when it was already so late...

It really had been too long. Otherwise, surely Mikleo would have noticed the approach of the feathered torpedo that was barreling at Mikleo at top speed. He was, after all, as unsubtle as he had ever been.

Mikleo had tried to plan out how this reunion would go. He would be composed, and gracious; bowing low to Sorey’s feet, before rising and taking him in his arms. But the pain of hitting the carved stone pathway was utter bliss. It throbbed through his bruised backside, and his bumped head made Sorey’s face look haloed in warm white light – though surely that wasn’t much of an exaggeration. Mikleo sobbed and buried his face into the familiar softness of Sorey’s feathered coat, wrapped his arms around him tight, and felt utterly unwilling to ever move from this spot – to ever leave this moment. But, Sorey couldn’t seem to keep still for long; twisting and wriggling his doggy body in Mikleo’s arms, his tail thumping hard against Mikleo’s legs, trying to steer himself to slobber kisses all over Mikleo’s face.

“You’re home, you’re home, Mikleo…”

Mikleo would have preferred his welcome-home kiss to have been provided by Sorey in his human form, as it probably would have involved less saliva in his hair. Still, he couldn’t help his joyous laughter. Nor could he stop the tears at the sound of Sorey’s voice. So happy to see him, unchanged by their separation, unchanged by the years and distance. It filled Mikleo with -- with a sort of reckless bravery that he knew he had to take advantage of before he lost his nerve.

“Sorey. Sorey, I need to see your hand.”

Sorey flopped one paw on Mikleo’s face and continued to slobber and blubber all over him. Mikleo struggled upright with Sorey in his lap.

“I see you haven’t forgotten how to shake, at least. I meant your human hand. I need to show you something.”

Sorey paused and eyed him up and down. The wheels in that beautiful mind of his were visibly turning.

Mikleo’s heart leapt into his throat. Did he suspect what was coming? He’d sent Sorey so many books over the years: journals, fiction, poetry books. Trashy romance novels. He probably had a collection rivalling most city libraries at this point -- Muse always told Mikleo that he was usually through them within an afternoon. With that kind of education and devoted study, surely Sorey could recognize the wind-up to a proposal from a mile away. Mikleo had wanted it to be a surprise, but...but according to the relationship studies Mikleo had read up on, the most successful marriages discussed a proposal in theory before putting it into practice. Maybe springing this on Sorey was a mistake, and they should wait until Mikleo was settled before talking about it, and…

Sorey veiled himself in light, and after but a moment, he emerged from under the veil in his human form; just as beautiful as Mikleo remembered him. He reached out one warm, strong hand, and placed it atop Mikleo’s. He tilted his head until he caught Mikleo’s nervous gaze, and waited.

Before he could properly parse the action, Mikleo realized he had taken the jewelry box out of his jacket pocket. The ring inside caught the light of the setting sun on the white-gold metal. It was a simple design: a single, artfully swirled metal knot at its face, and no gemstones to get caught or loosened while they hiked and climbed. It was also deceptively complex, to anyone who understood the meaning behind the ancient design – though maybe the weeks of research into Asgardian knot-tying rituals just classified it as hopelessly nerdy, instead. He thought it suited Sorey well, and hoped Sorey felt the same. What if he wanted something else...?

Sorey lifted his hand from where it rested, and held it aloft for Mikleo. By some miracle, he managed to get the ring on Sorey’s finger without dropping it. No sooner than he’d accomplished that, was Sorey sobbing and babbling and clinging to him again, kissing him over and over between words, between syllables of words.

“Mikleo, Mikleo, yes, yes, I love it, I do, Mikleo…”

Thankfully, Uncle Michael had excused himself from the scene. Mikleo wanted Sorey all to himself for a while.

 

\--

 

Mikleo awoke to the feeling of Sorey’s lips on his own, and the press of his body against his side.

He groaned into his mouth. He wasn’t protesting the kiss. Nor did he resent Sorey’s proximity. He just wasn’t sure he could provide what Sorey was looking for, if Sorey was looking for another round. Mikleo wrapped his arms around Sorey to keep him still, and broke the kiss to lean his cheek against his golden head. Sleep now. Fuck later. Please, gracious heavenly creature, have mercy upon this poor mortal.

Mikleo knew in theory that he should’ve expected this kind of stamina from a god, but it was one thing hypothesizing about it (at night, with his hand wrapped around himself), and quite another thing experiencing it firsthand. He’d only just gotten home the night before, and the thought of getting to rest a while longer in bed was just as alluring as the thought of tending to his fiance’s needs.

“Mikleo?” Sorey said softly. He poked him in the stomach. “Are you awake?”

“Mmfmgdmgmggfff,” said Mikleo.

“Okay! So…”

Sorey wriggled out of Mikleo’s grip and sat up. He was wearing Mikleo’s discarded shirt from the night before; unbuttoned and open, showing his chest – the subtle curve of his pectorals, and the lines of muscle trailing to his navel, the furrows of his hips framing his abdomen. His unbound hair fell about his broad shoulders, down that strong back. It had gotten even longer since Mikleo left, and about twice as unruly. Honestly. He’d have to get Sorey to sit down and let him comb it out and get it manageable. Mikleo felt a fond warmth at the thought, and at the glint of light off the ring on Sorey’s finger.

“So now that you’re back, my mom and grandpa want to come and meet you guys, and I thought that we could talk about what we wanna do while they’re here. I think my mom would love to see the temple gardens, and my grandpa would probably get a kick out of all the stuff we’ve improved in his temple, and...”

Sorey tilted his head to the side and made a curious noise at how pale Mikleo had gotten.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Then, a sudden realization. “Oh, don’t worry. I told them to give us a day or two so you could rest up and say hello to your mom and everyone in town, and get settled…”

“A day or two,” Mikleo echoed faintly. “Sorey. You’re asking us to host a pair of gods.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, Mao lives here. So do I.”

“With two days’ notice.”

Sorey scratched at his head. “Maybe a day and a half? Depends on how close they are to the mountain.”

Mikleo’s head was swimming. A day and a half before he was going to be playing host to two gods, who just so happened to be his future in-laws. He wanted to take Sorey’s face in his hands, stroke those tender cheeks with his thumbs, and ask him if this was some sort of punishment for leaving for five years.

No, no. Sorey was too kind-hearted to bear that kind of resentment, too pure for base revenge. And too innocent to understand exactly the kind of expectation this visit had.

Sorey was squinting out the window at an approaching swirl of storm clouds. He smiled over his shoulder at Mikleo.

“They’re a lot closer than I thought!” he chirped. “They’ll probably be here by dinner tonight. Do you think that’s okay? Should we ask your mom?”

“Yes,” Mikleo said weakly. “We should.”

After all, Muse was the only one who could save them now.

 

\--

 

Mikleo hadn’t seen the temple in such a state since the chaotic period of Maotelus’ illness and sudden sleep. Comparatively, Muse had been much calmer back then as well.

“You have the books on our genealogy? And the financial ledgers?”

“Yes,” Mikleo assured her for the fourth time that hour. “Laid out in the receiving room.”

Muse’s hands touched at Mikleo’s hair, which she had twisted into a complicated braid. She fretted at his dress robes, then her own dress robes, then at a hanging tapestry on the wall.

“And the receiving room, it’s—”

“The attendants finished preparing it two hours ago. You inspected it and dispatched them to help in the gardens and kitchen.”

“Oh, I suppose I should inspect it again,” Muse said with a note of despair. “So much can happen in two hours…”

Before Mikleo could stop her, she was off – marching through the halls like a royal general off to inspect the troops before a battle. Mikleo sighed and exited the foyer to get some fresh air. Sorey was there, outside; having made his escape from Muse’s dressing room and salon earlier. He looked up at Mikleo with guilty eyes.

“...I’m sorry. I really didn’t think they were this close by,” he said.

“It’s fine,” Mikleo assured him. “If they’d given us more notice, we would have had to deal with all of this prep for a few days instead of a few hours. And I don’t think any of us would have survived the experience.”

His uncle had barely survived the experience as it was. At least, Mikleo hoped he’d survived. The last Mikleo had seen of him was Muse backing him into her dressing room. She’d slammed the door behind them, there was a panicked scream, and then...nothing. Mikleo shuddered. Maotelus’ protection was nothing in the face of such determination.

Sorey leaned his head on Mikleo’s shoulder, and Mikleo wound his arm around him in the same easy motion. The dark stormcloud that heralded the approach of Sorey’s family drew closer. Despite its appearance, it didn’t feel ominous in the least – it felt like an incoming summer storm, brimming with excitement.

“I tried to tell your mom that none of this was really needed,” Sorey said quietly. “My mom and grandpa don’t expect any of this...fancy stuff. They just have wanted to meet you for so long, and I couldn’t resist telling them that you were here the moment you came back, and...all of this is my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Sorey,” Mikleo said soothingly. He rubbed his hand up and down Sorey’s back, then up to rub the spot behind Sorey’s ear that he loved, even in human form. “You’ve known my mother for ages. She was going to do this no matter what. She wants them to know that we’re taking care of you.”

“I guess,” Sorey said. “But I don’t know how we’re going to be able to show them the temple and waterfall like this. I can barely turn my head without my hairpins poking me…”

Sorey tried to turn his chin to demonstrate, and the jeweled hairpins holding up his cascade of hair jingled with the attempt. The dangling beads and baubles caught the waning light as the sun was covered by the clouds. The whisper of falling rain filled the air, and the rumble of thunder.

Mikleo had known Sorey long enough to understand that there would be no bombastic entrance here, no descent in a pillar of light from the clouds. Just a pair of feathered dogs climbing the temple steps, a bit damp from the rain, and looking like they could use a place to rest.

Sorey gave a joyful shout, and leapt forward to greet them – straight out of his clothes and human form, straight out of those hairpins. They clattered to the stone path with a series of muted _clink!_ s, drowned out as the rainstorm picked up. It was a happy reunion; with the larger of the two dogs tackling Sorey to the ground and giving his head a thorough scrubbing with their tongue, and the smaller, older-looking dog watching them fondly, their tail wagging.

“—mom, gramps, wait,” Sorey finally said through his laughter. “This is Mikleo. Mikleo, this is my family.”

His in-laws were two rather large and very unfamiliar dogs. Mikleo wondered if this was part of some final trial, to face his greatest fears before he was deemed worthy of Sorey. He swallowed hard, and moved to his knees to press himself to the ground before the two of them.

“No, no, none of that,” said the older dog. He had the voice of an old man, and stiffly walked forward to where Mikleo had frozen in a half-bow. “We’re not much for formalities. Though I must say I’m impressed that you managed to wrangle Sorey into that getup. I’m surprised those hairpins lasted as long as they did.”

“And I’m surprised you managed to get those ears of his clean,” said the dog with the voice of a young woman. “You’ll have to tell me your secret.”

Suddenly, the old dog was in the form of an old man; in old-fashioned clothing and tall shoes. He rested his wrinkled hand on Mikleo’s head.

“I suppose you’d know me as Zenrus, but considering the circumstance, ‘Gramps’ is fine and dandy. Now, I do hope you’ve got a spot to dry off in there.”

 

\--

 

Zenrus and Selene, Sorey’s grandfather and mother, truly were gracious guests. By the end of their short few days staying at the temple, they had already integrated themselves into the family. Selene somehow managed to get Muse to relax and unwind, and Zenrus managed a similarly impossible feat by managing to befriend Michael – and have a discussion with him about his archaeological efforts without it devolving into a fight. Both gods also made quite an impression on Zaveid when they visited the town and its bar one night, and taught him a lesson about drinking challenges that he surely would be feeling in the morning...and would not forget any time soon.

Upon announcing his intent to marry Sorey, Selene and Zenrus bade him their congratulations, gave their blessing. Selene touched her hand to Mikleo’s chin, tilting his head to look her in the eye. Her hands were lovely and slim, and rough with the calluses of an explorer.

“Sorey adores you, and wants to spend his eternity with you. But I’m sure he’s told you what that means.”

Mikleo lowered his gaze for a moment. “He has.”

It was so easy and straightforward a choice on that day in the bar, but when given the time to let the weight of it settle in, he was humbled at the foresight Sorey had; to force him to take five years to consider it. An eternity with Sorey, watching the mortal world march on. He would never pass into the afterlife with his mother and uncle, never meet the departed father he only dimly remembered. Rose and Alisha would live out their lives, and so would any and all mortals they would befriend along the way, on and on, forever and ever. Mikleo knew he couldn’t even grasp the depths of the time that stretched out before him, not with his form still human. But he could guess at how lonely it would be, and the ache that would follow him always, even with Sorey’s love to sustain him.

However, the thought of the alternative – passing on, and letting Sorey face that same eternity alone -- was unbearable.

“I understand it’ll hurt. But I can’t let him be alone any more,” Mikleo said. “I want to be with him, to see the world with him, to have a future with him. I’ll have a lifetime to spend with my family and friends – a lifetime is all humans ever expect to begin with, after all.”

Selene’s expression softened. Her green eyes were so kind and understanding, just like her son’s.

“And your family and friends – have you told them?”

“I have.”

His mother wasn’t against it, but it...had taken Muse a few years to come to terms with the idea. She had already been separated from her husband by death, and would now be separated from her son by unending life. Michael, for his part, seemed unsurprised by Mikleo’s announcement. He’d travelled and studied so much that it probably wasn’t the first time he’d heard of a human marrying into the godly ranks, nor the first time he’d heard of the consequences. But he, too, always went quiet when Mikleo brought up the topic.

In the end, they were of the same mind as Mikleo: a lifetime together was all anyone ever got. Still, it made Mikleo’s heart ache when he turned the thoughts over and over again in his head.

In the end, it was Rose that steeled his resolve.

_“If you’re passing up an immortal life as an all-powerful god out some weird sense of sentimentality,”_ she’d said. _“I will punch you the second I see you in the afterlife.”_

After a scolding from Alisha, she phrased it a bit more diplomatically.

_“Listen. If you really cared about what your friends and family think about this, you wouldn’t saddle us with the guilt of denying you your happily ever after with Sorey. You think you’re being considerate, but you’re not. You’re just being indecisive. This is one decision that you’ve gotta be selfish about, and make on your own.”_

It was a hard choice, a painful choice, and one that would probably never stop hurting. But it was the only choice Mikleo would ever want to make. He would face the endless road of eternity hand-in-hand with Sorey, and would never look back.

Selene bundled Mikleo into her arms, and let out a shaky sigh.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you, for caring for my little boy.”

 

\--

 

Sorey gazed dreamily off into the middle distance. He turned to Mikleo, and smiled goofily.

“Mikleo,” he said. “When do you think we should start trying for puppies?”

Mikleo choked on his drink, dribbling it down the front of his shirt. Honestly, he really had to stop being surprised at Sorey’s bluntness. He took a moment to compose himself, then replied with a question of his own.

“...puppies?” he asked.

Sorey blinked at him. “...don’t you remember? I told you that we can start a family...” He paused to purse his lips into a pout, and continued in a slightly wounded voice. “You told me to think up baby names while you were gone.”

Mikleo fretted and scooted close to Sorey, and took his hand in his. “Yes, of course I remember,” he assured him. “But I thought...I didn’t realize, that, um. I suppose it makes sense that it’d be _puppies_ , that’s all.”

Sorey’s face broke into a smile again, and all was right with the world once more. “Oh! No, no, they won’t be able to maintain human forms until they’re older. They’ll start as puppies. Fluffy and feathery, and with your eyes and your nose,” he continued, dreamily. “I’ve got it all planned out. Do you want to see my journals?”

A puppy with Mikleo’s nose sounded vaguely horrifying. Mikleo gave a crooked smile.

“Of course,” Mikleo said. He brought Sorey’s hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles before he continued. “I do want to have a family with you, Sorey. I meant it back then and mean it today.”

Sorey bounced in place in excitement, and surged forward to fling his arms around Mikleo in a tight hug.

“Great! Let’s start now,” Sorey said eagerly, and immediately started shimmying his robes off.

“Wha – Sorey!” Mikleo sputtered, trying to yank Sorey’s robes back into place. “Wait!”

Sorey froze in place, and his expression turned concerned. “Mikleo? Are...are you not ready?”

“I am, I just…” Mikleo floundered for words. “...this is just not how I pictured it happening.”

Sorey’s cheeks flushed pink. Mikleo’s heart skipped at the sight of it, making the rest of his protest evaporate. Too cute.

“You...you pictured it?” Sorey asked quietly.

Too, too cute. Mikleo’s body was definitely reconsidering its reluctance to knock Sorey up right here on the floor of Mikleo’s study. Mikleo opened his arms, and Sorey shyly took the opportunity to wriggle himself into Mikleo’s lap. Mikleo wrapped his arms around him, and pressed his lips against the shell of Sorey’s ear. His breath made Sorey’s feathered earrings flutter against his neck as he spoke.

“I did,” he said, low. “And I wanted it to be a little more romantic.”

Sorey’s voice fluttered out of his throat in a breathy sigh, and he squirmed on Mikleo’s lap. Mikleo trailed his lips down Sorey’s jaw, down his throat, down to where his robes were still askew at his chest.

“So,” Mikleo said. “I think we should move this to our bedroom, to start off with.”

“Yeah…” The word came out of Sorey’s throat as an extended whine.

Sorey was still shorter than him, but he was also still quite a bit more well-built, in compared to Mikleo’s slender frame. Frustratingly, years of travel had done little to change Mikleo’s build. It made carrying Sorey around difficult, and thwarted some of Mikleo’s more romantic gestures in the past. But tonight, Mikleo had a mission. A Mission from the Heavens themselves. Steeled with determination, he was granted the strength he needed by his heart, and also...other body parts. He deposited Sorey on their shared bed, and before he could follow him down, Sorey reeled him in by his shoulders.

“Mikleo, I wanna give you puppies, _lots_ of puppies, they’ll be so cute and they’ll be all ours to love and read to and play with…”

Mikleo couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from him, and he kissed Sorey, over and over, to give him a taste of the joy in his chest.

 

\--

 

A plate of mabo curry buns had gone missing from the kitchen, and there was only one man who could bring the suspects to justice.

Mikleo inspected the crime scene. There were many clues to the buns’ whereabouts: such as several eyewitness reports, loads of stray feathers, and basic common sense. But none of these clues would lead to where the buns were currently being held...luckily, there were a bunch of muddy pawprints tracked all around the countertop where the buns had been left to cool, and those muddy pawprints led Mikleo straight out of the kitchen and into the temple library.

Mikleo opened the library door, and rose an eyebrow at where Sorey sat too-innocently in a plush chair. Sorey blinked owlishly, and settled the book he was reading on his lap.

“Mikleo! How was your appointment?”

“I finished early,” Mikleo said. “There’s not much malevolence to purify in town anymore. I sensed some in this room, though, so I came to investigate.”

The town truly was purer than ever. Over the past year, Maotelus had slowly started to awaken from his slumber. He could only maintain wakefulness for a little while before drifting back off, but his conscious hours were becoming longer and longer. He could speak with Michael again, and be assured of the safety of the mountain – it clearly calmed his heart, and helped him grow stronger. With Sorey’s continued support, it wouldn’t be long until he was completely healthy again. And for this brief period, Camlann was experiencing the effects of the blessings of two mighty gods at once. Crops were bountiful, malevolence evaporated as soon as it crept into existence, and the weather was mild and beautiful. It was a wonderful time to be alive, and a wonderful time to raise a family.

The temple was livelier than it had ever been.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Sorey said, though he couldn’t quite stop the smile on his face. He was always such a terrible liar. “I don’t sense a thing.”

“Hmm.” Mikleo let his gaze drop to the odd bulge under the carpet at the center of the library.

It was indeed an odd, twitching bulge, and it sounded and smelled like someone was eating mabo curry buns underneath it. Mikleo walked up, and poked at the paw pad that was sticking out from under the edge of the carpet. There was a tiny squeak, and the mysterious paw darted underneath the carpet. Mikleo drew back the carpet, revealing the masterminds behind the curry bun caper.

“Sierra, Maiya,” Mikleo said sternly. “You know not to steal from the kitchens. Those treats were for everyone tonight.”

Sierra and Maiya gazed up at him with sorrowful puppy eyes, letting their tongues blep just so. The effect was ruined somewhat by the utter mess around them, and the fact that their mouths were still full of curry buns. Mikleo wrinkled his nose at the sight of their filthy coats – their downy puppy feathers got messy so easily, and it wasn’t worth asking how they’d gotten so muddy. It was something of a universal constant.

“Bath time,” Mikleo announced, his voice firm. “Both of you.”

Sierra gave an imperious little snort, and shimmed herself more comfortably into her flat-belly sprawl. Maiya rolled onto her back, showing off her fluffy tummy. Sorey suppressed a little laugh at the sight of their sass, and hid his expression behind his hand. Mikleo stared meaningfully at Sorey, telling him with his eyes: _don’t think you’re getting away with this scott-free. Or bath-free._ _You’re an accomplice in this crime, I can see the curry bun they paid you off with inside your sleeve_.

“Do we have to tell Aunt Rose and Aunt Alisha that the two of you can’t meet them at the train station today?” Mikleo asked. “And they were really looking forward to seeing you be flower girls at their wedding tomorrow. Grandma will be so upset to not see you in the dresses she made...”

Sierra and Maiya leapt to their feet, howling and yowling in panic, pleading for forgiveness. Mikleo pointed towards the door.

“Bath. Now. Your papa and I will think about letting you be in the wedding afterward.”

Sierra and Maiya tore off towards the bathroom, and only belatedly did Mikleo realize that he had only further contributed to the muddy pawprints all over the house. He sighed at the feeling of Sorey’s arms wrapping around him from behind.

“I’m sorry. It’s partially my fault,” said Sorey. “They just came trotting in here, and they looked so cute and proud of themselves, and…”

“You’re not much of a disciplinarian,” Mikleo said. He kissed Sorey’s temple. “But they’re all riled up from the wedding preparation. I suppose some naughtiness is expected.”

“Now who’s not much of a disciplinarian?”

“You’re going to help me clean them up. And scold them.”

Sorey gave a sheepish little smile, but nodded all the same. “Of course. Are you going to scold me too?”

“Maybe later.”

After scrubbing two penitent puppies clean of curry and mud, Sorey and Mikleo escorted them to the kitchens to apologize to the staff personally. As always, the staff couldn’t understand the girls in the slightest, but understood the sentiment – and were altogether too charmed to stay upset. Mikleo was thus willing to allow their previous plans to continue. To be honest, he wasn’t really willing to add on to Rose and Alisha’s stress by telling them that they were out two flower girls, nor was he willing to tell his mother that she wouldn’t be seeing her grandchildren in the ceremony. Even if he was the priest that was going to be overseeing the whole thing, he wasn’t really sure if that would save him from getting choked out.

They walked together on the road to the train station, letting the girls romp ahead of them. Mikleo’s reputation in town had passed out of memory – especially now that there was much juicier gossip unfolding, in the form of the town’s biggest heartbreaker falling head over heels for a beautiful, mysterious, sunshine-smiled stranger. The girls who once had their hearts broken by Camlann’s most eligible bachelor had since found their own happiness, as Mikleo and Sorey had found theirs.

They passed the Spring Breeze, waving to Zaveid and Lailah as they passed. They’d told some people about Sorey and the girls’ true nature; people sensitive to the supernatural, people who could understand, people they could trust. Zaveid leaned on his broom, smiling sappily at the sight of the girls trotting along. Mikleo saw him lean in to whisper to Lailah:

“Can we have some puppies, too?”

Mikleo also heard Zaveid yelp as Lailah pinched him for the comment.

“Mao should be ready to stand on his own again soon,” Sorey said. “It’s good to see him up and about again. The girls wore him out last time, though.”

“I think that can’t be helped,” Mikleo noted.

Sorey laughed. “You’re right, there.”

He went quiet for a moment, then squeezed Mikleo’s hand. “Do you think, in a few years, that we could...could maybe start travelling with the girls? Only for short trips, at first. And we’d always come back. They’ll be able to start learning to fly soon, and…”

Mikleo squeezed his hand right back. “That sounds wonderful. There’s a big world out there for them to see, and we’ve got to get around to showing it.”

A big world, full of beautiful things, fascinating things. Full of malevolence, full of things that might be able to hurt them. Full of big snarling dogs – gods help him, after everything, Mikleo was still jumpy around dogs. All in all, Mikleo was fairly sure that he’d be the one who wasn’t really ready when the time came to travel with them. But he knew firsthand that he couldn’t hold them back.

He heard the whistle of the train carrying Rose and Alisha, and Sierra and Maiya threw back their heads to howl along with it. Sorey’s smile lit the world like sunlight at the sight of it. Mikleo let his worries quiet, and allowed himself to bask in the moment.

It would be alright. They had all the time in the world to figure it out.

 

\--

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for staying with me and Elle throughout this journey! <33 It was a pleasure and an honor to bring Elle's story to life, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.


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